


Twin Size Mattress

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Aged-Up Characters, Boys helping each other be better, Child abuse (from foster parents), College, Drug and Alcohol Use, Homelessness, I promise this won't be too sad, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Sexual Content, Violence, childhood crush, friends to boyfriends, mental health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-02-08 16:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12868722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Craig Tucker is desperate to restart his life as he enters his freshman year of college. Without warning, he finds himself face to face with Tweek Tweak, his childhood best friend who got taken away from his home years ago by the foster care system.





	1. I Think I Was Blind Before I Met You

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, this is my first fanfic! I'm trying my best with this! This will probably end up being a pretty long fic. The way it looks like it's panning out right now is around 100k words. I'm not sure yet though.
> 
> I'm doing my best to make this fic have a nice balance of sad elements and happy elements, and fluffy parts and smutty parts. I promise I won't make it too sad, I LIVE for happy fluffy stuff, but to me, that fluff doesn't have the same power unless it's juxtaposed against some sad struggles here and there.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> TW: at some point in this fic there will most likely be a topic that might make some readers uncomfortable. Basically a character will try to push himself on another character. It won't get explicit, it will basically just be a guy pushing another guy up against the wall and rather aggressively kissing him (Don't worry, it's not Tweek and Craig, they will have a healthy relationship). I understand that this is an event that might trigger thoughts of sexual assault, even though the unwanted advances are stopped before anyone is touched in any really explicit ways. I'll put a trigger warning at the top of that chapter when it comes. Just thought I'd warn you in advance!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any South Park characters

Chapter Track: First Day Of My Life -- Bright Eyes

When I was younger, all I wanted was to want nothing. I loved my boring life. Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy my life. But for a while, I was content without any real excitement. I never wanted to date anyone, or do anything adventurous. No stress, no pressure, no emotions.

That didn't last forever though. The charm of the monotonous wore off eventually, and I found myself itching to start my life over and try something new. For years I struggled to figure out what it was that I felt my life was missing. I tried to fill the hole with drugs, but it it only helped temporarily. The nagging feeling remained. By the time high school rolled around, I decided that leaving my hometown would be the answer to my issues.

I hated where I lived anyway. That stupid mountain town is full of ass-backwards bigots. I mean, about 60 percent of the population was unabashedly homophobic... and I mean, fuck that, right? I hate all of them. And no, I'm not just bitter because I'm gay. The residents of South Park would suck regardless.

Okay, okay, my sexuality does have a lot to do with my bitterness. 

You can't blame me. It's not easy being gay in a town like this. People drop insults left and right. "Faggot," "fudge packer," and "flamer" were a few quite frequently thrown my direction. Most of the time those insults were met with a swift and simple middle finger. But every now and then someone would push their luck. I think people pretty much learned not to do that. Each dickwad that refused to leave me alone ended up with a black eye... at the very least. And me? Well, I ended up in the principal's office far too often.

It was even difficult for me to figure out I was gay in the first place. I didn't exactly love people all that much, so it was a challenge to determine what kind of people I was interested in. I previously just assumed I liked girls, because that's who I was told I was supposed to like. But no one I ever met was that interesting to me -- until I met the Tweek Tweak.

Tweek Tweak was just some twitchy weirdo to me back then. I didn't think much of him. Actually, we didn't get along all that well at first. We got into a fight in the third grade, and both ended up in the hospital. What a joke. Neither of us really knew what we were doing. We just wildly threw punches and tackled each other. Somehow we ended up fucking each other up pretty good. The night we spent together in that hospital felt so awkward at first. But looking back on it now, it was a pivotal point in my childhood, and subsequently the rest of my life.

We both looked like shit, laying there on those uncomfortable beds at Hell's Pass Hospital.

I remember him pulling out his gameboy as I was starting to fall asleep. The volume must have been turned up all the way, because the noises jolted me out of my half-sleep state. (And if you know me, you know it's no secret that I can sleep through almost anything.)

I jumped in my hospital bed, throwing the stiff sheets off of my body.

"Ahh!" Tweek screamed in response to my quick movements. He scrambled to the edge of his bed furthest from me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Goddamnit, can you shut that thing up?" I couldn't keep the frustration and exhaustion from my nasally voice. 

"Eep! I-I'm sorry!" He squeaked out as his fingers fumbled to find the volume button. It took him longer than it should have. He was a jumpy kid -- constantly twitching at that age, and it affected his dexterity significantly.

This little fact was obvious to anyone that looked at him. He couldn't ever button his shirts properly, and it was clear than any attempts he made to brush his blond hair were in vain. These little marks of his anxiety were all over his body. The skin around his fingernails was torn and peeling, and he had dark circles under his eyes, even at that young age. 

I sighed. "It's not that big of a deal dude, calm down." He turned the volume off completely, and then silently, but nervously, slid back into position in his lumpy hospital bed. I laid my head back, but kept my neck craned to the side to look over his shoulder. My hand fiddled with the black twine bracelet around my left wrist. I didn't actually know much about this kid -- why did we get into a fight again?

Oh yeah, fucking Stan and friends. Cartman told me that Tweek called me a big poop-eater. I was kind of pissed, but I didn't actually care that much. Like I mentioned, I preferred to do nothing. So when I skipped the fight to watch Red Racer, Cartman showed up at my door to tell me that Tweek insulted my guinea pig, Stripe. Apparently he said that I shove Stripe up my ass. Okay, that pissed me off, and so I decided to fight him. But Stan and those other guys had showed up to our hospital room hours earlier to tell us that they made up all that crap just to try to get us to fight. I rolled my eyes. Those guys were always up to something.

I watched Tweek's fingers press the buttons of his green gameboy. His movements were fast, which wasn't all that surprising, based off of how high-strung this kid was. What was surprising was the accuracy of his movements -- they were calculated and sure. It was nothing like the way his fingers had moved as he scrambled to turn off the volume. I wondered how often the kid played video games.

My eyes flicked to his face. His tongue stuck out to the side in deep concentration -- he was chewing on it lightly. His eyes were wide and unblinking. I found myself staring at them, watching the light from his gameboy reflect in them in the dim evening light. I realized how big his eyes were -- they were like a puppy dog's... big, green, pretty puppy dog eyes. Something in my stomach flipped in that moment, and an unfamiliar, prickly feeling washed over my body. Did I really just use the word "pretty" to describe Tweek Tweak's eyes?

I felt embarrassed for staring. My eyes quickly flicked back to his gameboy. I looked and -- Red Racer! He was playing the new Red Racer game. My jaw slacked a little bit. I didn't really know anyone else that was into Red Racer. I swallowed a lump that had formed in my throat.

"You like Red Racer?" I said flatly. He jumped slightly at the sound of my voice cutting through the silence.

"Um, I-I think this is a pretty g-good game. I like the TV show a lot b-better though, I guess..." His voice faded toward the end of his sentence. He sounded unsure, like he was scared to give the wrong answer. He dropped his head.

I blinked at his answer. "What's your favorite season?" I asked.

"Ah, um, I don't r-really know... oh god! I guess maybe season th-three? Ack! I don't know, season one was good t-too, b-b-but the show was still finding itself, I mean w-what were they thinking?!" He paused his game. "When they had Green Racer c-challenge the Blue Racer!? Why would they do that, man?! That's s-so out of character! The blue racer is w-way too fast, of course he won! The Green Racer should have known! Ah! He's s-supposed to be the smart one right?? He should have been way too t-timid to challenge anyone, especially the B-Blue Racer!" His fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt. "Rrrr, it b-bothers me. B-but the ending of season one was s-so good! Ack! But then Red Racer cried! Red Racer doesn't c-cry! I mean, I get t-that they were trying to show his s-sensitive side, but come on! They c-could have went about it d-differently! Ugh - ah! I guess I d-don't actually l-l-like season one all that much." His voice dropped and his head followed.

I was silent for a second -- had this kid just gone on a rant about Red Racer in front of me? I stared. 

Laughter came bubbling out of me. I couldn't quite pinpoint why. It was likely a combination of his passion, his lack of restraint while speaking, and the fact that he was just so damn cute when he rambled -- though I wouldn't have ever admitted that last part. 

His brow furrowed and he frowned. "W-w-why are you laughing a-at me?!?" I didn't stop my obnoxious laughter to explain why. I snorted. His frown deepened. "S-stop!" He picked up his empty paper coffee cup as if he was about to throw it at me. But before he could, his irritation must've melted into embarrassment, since his face grew bright red and he shrunk in on himself. A choked noise escaped from his mouth.

I calmed myself down once I saw him become less angry and more hurt. "Hey dude, sorry." I said, still smiling. "It's just that season three is my favorite too." His head snapped up. "And yes, season one was kind of trash."

The corners of his lips twitched slightly upward.

"What'd you think of the most recent episode?" I pressed, curious of his reaction.

His face contorted back into one of discomfort. "AGH!" He grabbed fistfuls of his hair in frustration. "They left it on a c-cliffhanger!! I c-can't take it when that happens, man! It's so stressful! I mean, R-Red Racer is in a really tough situation! What is he going to do?! Who knows!!" He threw his hands animatedly up in the air. "And n-now we have to wait another week to find out! Ughh! I can't take it!!"

I sat there and watched him for a few seconds. He was twitching gently as he brought his fingers to his mouth and began bitting at the skin around his fingernails. Okay, maybe this kid wasn't as bad as everyone made him seem. You can't actually be a bad person if you like Red Racer.

"Come over to my house next week after school. We can watch the new episode together." He stared back at me with those big eyes, looking confused and slightly shocked. "I mean of course if you don't want to, you don't have to..." my voice trailed off, and I rubbed the back of my neck.

"You p-punched me in the face today. Multiple times. A-a-and now you want me to come to your house?" He paused. "This i-is some k-kind of trick, isn't it? I-invite the weird k-kid to your house so y-you can pretend to be f-fr-friends with him, then s-stab him in the back when he least e-expects it! Ah! I'm no fool!"

What? "No, dude! I love Red Racer. Clyde and Token never want to watch it with me. I... I just think it would be nice to watch it with someone else..." My face grew hot. Why was I nervous about asking this kid to hang out with me?

"Ah! I d-don't believe you! Who are you anyway? Why should I t-trust you?? You could be a murderer for a-all I know! Gah!! Oh Jesus, you're going to k-kill me, I'm going to die!" He whimpered and retreated to the far corner of his bed.

"Woah dude, I'm not going to hurt you."

"You already did!" He clipped back. I guess I did... he had a split lip to prove it.

"Okay, that's true, but you hit me too! Don't play the victim! Look at my eye!" My eye was swollen and still deepening in its purple color. He yelped at my voice, and looked anywhere but my eye. He began picking at the skin around his fingernails again.

He was silent for a minute, still unsure of how to react. I sat up in and leaned across the gap between our beds, extending my pinky finger to the trembling boy before me. "I pinky promise that I'm not trying to trick you. I really want to hang out with you." He blinked at my outstretched finger.

Slowly, he raised his bandaged hand, and extended a wobbly pinky. But before his skin touched mine, he quickly pulled his hand back to his chest. 

"And do you also promise you're not a murderer??" I laughed at his question, but met his eyes and saw real worry in his expression. My smile dropped in the realization that he probably worried about a lot of things like that. I didn't want to be a source of his anxiety.

I gazed at him, concerned, then smiled at him weakly. "I promise I'm not a murderer... I also promise I won't beat you up again." I pushed my hand further forward, inviting him to wrap his pinky around mine. He kept his hand tight against his chest for a few more seconds as he chewed the inside of his mouth, contemplating.

Finally, he extended his hand again, this time locking his pinky with mine. I could feel the heat of his skin and the vibration of his jittery muscles. He withdrew his hand within a half a second, nodding. "Um. Okay, I'll b-be at your house by 5:00 on Thursday for Red Racer."

I smiled wide. I don't know why I did... I don't really smile very often. His eyes met mine and he gave me a toothy grin in return. My stomach did that thing where it flips again. 

We spent the rest of the night chatting about Red Racer. He even let me play his game for a little while. We fought off our exhaustion in order to keep talking. At one point we ended up giggling so loudly that a nurse burst into the room to hush us -- it was probably already midnight at that point, and there was no way that the other patients couldn't hear us through the thin walls.

Despite how pleasant that night was, Tweek was still a little skeptical of me afterward. I figured that was fair enough, considering the fight we had gotten into. When he came to my house the next Thursday, he brought baked goods from his parents coffee shop for us to share. They were actually really fucking delicious.

I remember looking over at him while he watched the new Red Racer episode with wide eyes. I got that feeling again in my abdomen, the one where it feels like your stomach flips. I wrote it off as nerves and excitement at having a new friend that liked the same things that I did. Was I enjoying excitement? The combination of emotions swimming in my head felt unfamiliar, though not unwelcome.

When the episode of Red Racer ended, he began gathering his things like he was going to leave.

"Um, you can stay longer if you want." The episodes of Red Racer were only 30 minutes. It felt like he had just showed up.

"Ah! Um, uh. I d-don't know..." His eyes darted around the room. My mom emerged from the kitchen with a dish towel in her hand and her hair pulled back into a messy blonde bun.

"Tweek, you should stay for dinner. I'm making meatloaf." My mom cooed in her most friendly voice possible.

"Hng. I-I think my mom is expecting me to c-come home for dinner. I d-don't know..." His fingers flew to his mouth, and he chewed on his skin.

"We can call your mother on our house phone if you'd like." My mom pressed. She liked having guests over. It was probably because our family was kind of boring -- we didn't communicate a whole lot. Having guests gave my mom someone to talk to. Even if that person was the twitchy little kid that put her son in the hospital.

"Yeah, dude. You should stay. We can watch Red Racer reruns until dinner is ready." I chimed in. He looked at me, clearly still unsure. I gave him a gentle, reassuring smile. His eyes widened in shock, then quickly relaxed as he offered me a tiny smile in return.

"O-okay... sure. I'll call m-my mom." He shuffled into the kitchen, following my mom, where he took our home phone in his still-bandaged hands, shakily pressing the buttons to call his mother.

"H-hi mom." He squeaked. "Yes, mom." I could barely hear his mother on the other end. "I w-wanted to ask you if I could s-stay at C-Craig's house for dinner." I remember hearing a muffled explosion of excitement from his mother through the phone. Tweek jumped. I couldn't make out what she was saying but I heard clips like, "play-date," "little friend," "great," and "so proud."

His mom seemed to be really happy that our "play-date" went well enough that Tweek actually wanted to stay longer than he had originally planned. I found myself wondering if Tweek had many friends. I never really saw him with anyone. He ate with Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny at lunch sometimes, but they never really seemed super close. I hadn't exactly paid much attention though. It sounded like his mom was really concerned about his ability to find friends.

"O-okay." He spoke quietly. "Okay, I l-love you too, mom. Bye." He hung the phone up with a final click and turned to me. He smiled wide as he jumped back into his place on the couch next to me. He seemed excited, yet strangely calm. "Let's watch season three!"

After that first time, we ended up hanging out every Thursday until the end of the fifth season of Red Racer. He would even stay for dinner every now and then. Once the season ended, we started hanging out just to sit around and play video games together. He beat me at almost every game we played. Looking back on it, the few times I actually won, I think he just let me win. In that time we grew closer and closer as friends. Tweek gradually became less anxious around me. He stopped jumping when I would address him, and he shook less when we were alone.

I tried to help him make more friends. Whenever I had the chance, I invited him to have sleepovers with Token and Clyde. Of course, he declined at first. He hated the idea of spending the night in some stranger's house, and we always ended up at Token's. Token's family was rich, so when we went to his place, we had plenty of space to ourselves where we could play video games, build forts out of bed sheets, and watch scary movies. (Token's parents also always had tons of food for us.) It took a lot of convincing and time to finally get him to hang out with the three of us. Slowly and surely though, he warmed up to Clyde and Token.

The four of us ended up spending weekend after weekend at Token's house, playing video games, eating snacks, and hanging out. 

Everything was typical, yes. But it was also really great. I was really happy that I became friends with Tweek. My life felt like how I imagine a child's life should feel: innocent, full of laughter, and full of friends.

Life doesn't stay good forever though. Everything changed the summer before 5th grade. I was slowly stripped of my innocence as Tweek's life was uprooted in the worst way I can imagine for a child.


	2. A Portrait in Grayscale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of short, and I'm also posting it pretty quickly after the last one. But it felt like the right place to end the chapter, so here we are.

Chapter Track: Plane vs. Tank vs. Submarine -- Tigers Jaw

It's certainly not my favorite thing to think about: the way my then-best friend was stripped of his childhood. For a while, just the thought of it would really mess me up. I couldn't even imagine what Tweek must have gone through.

I didn't want to think about it, but as I stared out the window, headed toward my freshman year of college, and headed toward a massive change in my own life, I couldn't help but think about the way Tweek's life was altered so tragically.

It was the evening of July 4th, the summer before our 5th grade year.

Like any good holiday, I was at Token's house for the night with Tweek and Clyde. Token's parents were home to keep an eye on us, but the rest of our parents were at some party just outside of town. The four of us were in the basement, spread out on the couches and armchairs of the Black's home theater, stuffing our faces with snacks and soda. The lights were dim in the large room. We were watching some horror movie that Clyde had picked. The movements on the screen cast dancing shadows around the room, and we could faintly hear fireworks going off outside.

"Oh come on. Why is he going upstairs?? What an idiot. This movie is dumb." Token had said. The movie was full of cliches and classic half-wit characters that make awful decisions. Unsurprisingly, the first death was a blonde girl who tripped and fell running from the killer. Typical. It was admittedly really lame, despite Clyde's best efforts to sell us on it.

"Don't question it too much. If you do, the whole plot falls apart!" Clyde retorted. "Besides, I told you the end is a real brain melter, just wait."

"The plot shouldn't be able to fall apart that easily, dude. And who cares what the end is like if the rest of it's boring? This movie is shit." I agreed.

"You know what, I tried to pick something that we would all like. But I'm feeling very attacked right now." Clyde complained, wrapped inside his blanket, his round face peaking out overtop.

Clyde was always trying his best. But he was definitely a huge dork. For a while, I almost felt bad for him. But I kept in mind the time that the girls in our class made a list, ranking the boys from most to least attractive. Clyde was at the top of the list, and he really let it go to his head. Turns out the whole thing was rigged, and Clyde was actually supposed to be in the bottom five, but Clyde never found out that little fact. However, the confidence boost it gave him did actually make him seem more attractive, so I guess it worked out in the end. Except we had to deal with Clyde thinking he's hot shit, which sucked.

"Ah! You didn't t-try very hard t-then!" Tweek exclaimed. "You know I hate scary m-movies!" He pulled his navy green blanket over his head like a hood, flattening his disheveled blond hair. His body was tucked into a ball beside me on the couch, and he wasn't watching the screen. Tweek got panic attacks every now and then, which were triggered by things ranging in severity, from stressful social situations, to threats of nuclear war. So to play it safe, he diverted his attention out of fear of having an attack. I looked over at him. He seemed okay; he was twitching and picking at the thread on the edges of his blanket -- nothing really that out of the ordinary for the the kid. His eyes met mine for a second. They were reflecting the silver light from the movie screen. My stomach flipped, just like it had that first night in the hospital. There was just something so innocent and beautiful about those big green eyes.

Clyde sniffed and sunk deeper into his position in Token's armchair. "Whatever you guys. Someone else can pick the next one." He sounded defeated.

A few more minutes of the movie passed, and I spent most of that time trying to figure out a way to make Tweek more comfortable. Without warning, the lights in the Black's home theater turned on, and we whipped our heads around to find Mrs. Black entering the room.

"Moooom, turn the lights ba-" he cut himself short when he saw the puffiness of her eyes and the redness of her nose. She had obviously been crying. Token's brows furrowed. "What's wrong, mom?" He paused the movie.

"Um, Tweek dear," she said, turning to the blonde, "there are a few men here that would like to speak to you."

Tweek's eyebrows raised slightly in a mix of concern and surprise. "Ah, o-o-okay..." He stood up and followed Token's mom out of the room and up the basement stairs, leaving his blanket behind.

The three of us sat there trying to let our eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, and wondering who could have wanted to come speak to Tweek at 10:30 pm on a holiday. I started to feel a small knot form in the pit of my stomach, but I quickly worked to push it down.

"Do you guys have any clue what that's all about?" Clyde asked, sitting up and unwrapping himself from his blanket.

"No idea." Token responded. We all stared at each other, confused but not too concerned. It probably wasn't a big deal. 

"We should go check it out." Clyde said, his eyes burning with interest.

The thought flashed through my mind that maybe it was a private moment that we shouldn't intrude on, but my curiosity got the better of me, so we agreed and creeped up the basement stairs. I cracked open the door that led directly into the foyer of the Black's near mansion-sized house. I peered out just in time to see Tweek's small body standing next to Mrs. Black, her hand on his shoulder.

I could feel the summer night's breeze on my face, as the entrance to the Black's home stood wide open; two policemen towered in the doorway.

The taller of the two men spoke first. "There isn't really an easy way for me to say this to you, Tweek, but your parents were in a bad car accident tonight."

The boy's hands flew to his head, and he tugged at his blond hair. His knuckles growing white as he tightened his grip. "O-oh my god, they're o-okay, r-r-right??" I couldn't see his face from the angle I was positioned at, but I could imagine the twisted look of fear on his face.

There was a long pause as the police officers looked at each other. The other man spoke. "...Unfortunately, son, your mother and father both died on impact."

Tweek dropped to his knees. That's all I saw. I felt a huge twist in my stomach, this time a lot less pleasant than the ones I often got when I looked into Tweek's eyes. I ran back down the steps ungracefully, bursting into the bathroom to throw up -- something that often happened in stressful situations. After losing the contents of my stomach, I sat staring into the toilet in disbelief.

I remember so many thoughts running through my head. Tweek didn't really have any other family -- no siblings, and only once aunt who was barely getting by. I had no clue where he'd end up. I remember vaguely feeling like a huge asshole -- why should I be running away, scared and stressed out? I should have run the opposite direction to comfort my best friend. I was selfish. I stood back up on shaky legs and wiped my mouth. For Tweek's sake, I knew I had to go back upstairs. I glanced in the mirror before I left; I looked like shit. My hand twisted around the bracelet on my left hand, and I breathed in deeply. When I emerged from the basement's bathroom I found Token and Clyde sitting on the floor, looking unsure what to do with themselves. Clyde's face was wet with tears and Mrs. Black was gathering Tweek's things, looking somber.

I darted past them and up the stairs. I reached the foyer to find no one was there. My legs carried me with haste as I stormed out Token's front door to see Tweek being placed in a cop car. I ran out to the scene. The flashing lights and booming of fireworks was an assault on my senses as I tried to keep a clear head. One of the policemen stopped me before I reached the car, placing himself between me and the metal door that was being closed behind Tweek. 

I caught a glimpse of Tweek's face that I swear I'll never forget. The boy's eyes were squeezed shut as though he refused to open them and face reality. His cheeks were splotchy and wet, glistening in the light of the fireworks. He looked utterly broken. Tears immediately began stinging in my eyes, and my vision blurred.

"I'm sorry son, but we're taking him to the station for the night. Everything will be taken care of there. He's in good hands." The police officer looked exhausted.

"Please, let me see him!" I nearly shouted, desperation filling my voice.

The large man's brow furrowed for a moment, and then relaxed. "Okay, but just until his belongings are gathered." He opened the car door for me.

Tweek was huddled into a ball, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. I slid into the car seat next to him, shutting the door behind me. I didn't know what to say, so instead I reached over and placed an unsure hand on his shoulder. Upon registering the my touch, he leapt toward me, wrapping his arms around my chest. He buried his face into the material of my shirt and let out a pained whimper. His body wracked with heartbreaking sobs and choked noises. Whatever control I previously had over my tears was lost; that first tear broke free, and the rest followed in stream. I pulled the blonde closer, sniffing loudly. His fists clenched tightly at my shirt. I tried to be comforting by rubbing small circles on his back as I held him, but I figured there wasn't much to be done when comforting someone who had just lost their parents. It was beyond painful to see Tweek like this. I couldn't figure out what to do, so I just let him cry on me for the next few minutes before the policemen had to pry me away from him.

"Tweek!" I cried out. Somehow the fireworks didn't stop going off. People were out there, celebrating. Their lives kept moving. Meanwhile, my best friend's was falling apart. I thought I was going to vomit again. "Please let me go with him!"

Tweek kept crying as he put his hands on he glass of the cop car window, looking back at me with pain and fear in his eyes. One of the policeman placed Tweek's things in the trunk of the squad car, as the other brought me back to the porch where Mrs. Black was standing, handing me off to her.

I watched as they drove away. I could feel the wind biting at the wet spot on my shirt where Tweek's face had been just seconds ago. Those damn fireworks were still lighting up the sky above me. I struggled to remain calm, as tears gushed down my cheeks, plopping with finality on the ground beneath me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter won't be entirely flashbacks, like these first two chapters have been. Woohoo! (Though there will still be some flashback/background)


	3. These Are Broken Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: talk of child abuse
> 
> Yoooo! I want to say thank you to all the lovely people who have left me kudos and comments! I really love that people are enjoying what I've written so far!
> 
> Sorry that this chapter turned into a bummer again. The next one will be more upbeat! Woohoo!

Chapter Track: I Think You Were in My Profile Picture Once -- Modern Baseball

I was snapped out of my daze by my mom.

"Craig, we're here! Are you excited, hon?"

I felt a little sick to my stomach, both from reliving the memory of the death of Mr. and Mrs. Tweak, and from general nerves and excitement surrounding the start of college. I was going to be attending classes at the University of Colorado Boulder. My education was paid for mostly by scholarships I got based on my academic performance during high school. At least I assume that's why I got scholarships -- it couldn't have been because I was well-behaved, so it must have been my test scores. "Yeah, sure, mom."

"Okay sweetie, let's start moving you in then!" She began unpacking my things from the trunk, while my father walked to the door of my apartment to check the locks. My mom handed me a few boxes and I made my way to the front door, padding lightly on the concrete. 

For our first year, my friends and I decided to forgo the typical dorm life for an apartment just off campus. We managed to get a pretty decent second floor, three bedroom apartment -- a room for each me, Clyde, and Token. I was actually pretty excited about this. The thought of freedom and the chance to be away from all the shit that happens in South Park tugged at the edges of my mouth, forcing me into an involuntary smile.

"Your key works just fine. Let's head on in." My father said. He stepped into the small foyer area, shared by both us and our downstairs neighbors, looking around. We headed up the the dark stairs, each one groaning under our weight. My father gestured toward the door at the top of the staircase, inviting me to open it. I twisted the knob just as my stomach twisted with nerves. I pushed the door inward and entered. 

My gaze passed over the open-floor-plan apartment -- it looked a little more underwhelming in person than it did in the pictures... figures. It was dimly lit, and looked pretty well-lived in. The linoleum floor was marked with scratches and mysterious stains. We walked into the open area, where a small living room-like space sat to the left. Token had already set up two futons around a coffee table and a pretty sizable tv. A plain black rug was spread out beneath it all. Thank god Token's family was loaded -- they offered to buy us pretty much everything we needed for our common spaces. To the right was a small kitchen area, complete with a cheap table that looked like it came with the apartment. The cabinets hanging on the wall were coated with a chipping black paint, and the stove looked like it came straight out of the 70s. The bathroom was to the left beyond the tv, along with a bedroom that looked unclaimed. Down a hallway to the right past the kitchen were two additional rooms. Token emerged from behind one of these doors to greet us.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Tucker! How was the drive?" Token looked the same as ever; he was well-put together, wearing clothes that were obviously expensive, but in a way that didn't make him look like a total asshole. His hair was perfectly shaped atop his head, and his dark skin was free of blemishes.

"It was just fine, Token. Glad to see you. Are your parents still here? How are they?" My mom inquired. I hated casual small talk. Token lives to impress adults though, and my parents loved him for it; they thought he was a good influence on me.

"They left a couple of hours ago. They were pretty worn out from helping me move in. Do you guys need any help carrying Craig's stuff in?" Token was already moving toward the door to help grab my things.

"Thank you, son. That'd be a huge help." My dad plopped his big hand on Token's shoulder. He especially liked Token, though for whatever reason he thought him and I were in some sort of secret relationship. When I came out to my parents a few years ago, that was the first thing he asked me: "You and Token gay for each other??" I told him no, that Token was straight, but my dad just wasn't buying it. I suppose that someone could perceive Token's clean-cut style as sort of metrosexual, and my dad seemed to think that made him gay. He still thinks we're trying to hide our 'relationship' from him and my mom, no matter how much I insisted that I wouldn't be afraid to tell them if I was in a relationship with Token. Even when Token brought a girl to senior prom, my dad was still convinced it was some kind of cover up.

As we moved my things into my room, I started to get more excited by what all of this meant. My chance to live a new life. I pulled out a neon light I bought a couple months back -- it was green and shaped like an alien head. Token leaned over my shoulder and watched me.

"You dirty hipster. We get it, you like space, you want to be an astronomer. You don't have to decorate your entire room like it's from another planet." Token snatched the neon light from my hands and plugged it into an outlet. The alien head flicked to life, buzzing faintly.

I flipped him off. "Call me what you will, but I like my stuff." I looked around my room at the items that were already unpacked. My dark blue bomber jacket was hanging on the back of my door, complete with a NASA patch on the front. Posters of the solar system and galaxies were piled on the floor, waiting to be hung. A baggie of those glow-in-the-dark stick-on stars sat on my desk. Okay, those were pretty gay, I'll admit that. But I am gay, so whatever. The faint glow they give off at night made me feel secure, so I've kept them since elementary school -- parting with them now would just feel wrong.

Token chuckled and lightly punched me in the shoulder. "I'm just messing with you, man. It's good you're passionate about something. Are you excited for your first college-level astronomy course?"

I was planning to get my BA in Astronomy. Admittedly, I couldn't fucking wait for my Astro and Physics classes. But I was not about to admit my child-like excitement to Token. "Eh, they'll probably be pretty tough, so I'm not really sure."

He picked up and empty box, and tossed it out of my room. We kept unpacking boxes as my parents kept bringing more stuff up from the car. The hours stretched on and I couldn't wait to collapse on my bed and do nothing. 

While I was still unpacking, Clyde burst into the apartment, carrying his over-sized bags in his arms. His eyes grew wide. "Woah, we can totally have sweet parties here, dude!" was the first thing out of his mouth. Leave it to Clyde to be totally overwhelmed by a completely underwhelming college-town apartment.

Eventually we were both completely unpacked. My parents went to leave as the sun was beginning to dip low in the sky. I walked them out to the car, and breathed in the air. The signs of summer were already fading -- there was a chill in the breeze, and the sun was starting to set noticeably earlier. I took in the view of my street; other apartments lined the road on both sides. Not too far away were a few shops and restaurants, mostly fast food. They were clearly targeting the college student market; almost everyone that lived in these apartments attended classes at CU Boulder, since campus was a short 5 minute walk away.

"Make sure Tricia takes good care of Stripe." I couldn't bring my beloved baby girl to school with me. Unfortunately, our landlord wasn't the biggest fan of rodents, so bringing a guinea pig was off-limits. Not that our landlord would have ever checked and found out though.

"We will, son." My father just barely smiled.

My mom hugged me and slipped something into my hand with her well-manicured fingers. I looked -- it was about 7 or 8 condoms. For some reason, I wasn't even surprised. I groaned at her in response and she kissed my forehead, smiled, and made her way around the car to the passenger side.

I waved my parents goodbye and ran up the stairs to collapse on my bed for a moment of peace. I threw the condoms on my desk and jumped into bed. As I sprawled out on the mattress, I let my mind wander. Thoughts of Tweek lingered at the edges of my mind, before I was pulled back into the memory of the night I last saw the blonde.

It was years after the death of his parents. Tweek had been placed in a foster home that was, luckily enough, right in South Park. His new home was over crowded with other children, but they still placed Tweek there because they figured it would be less of an upsetting process if he wasn't suddenly yanked out of South Park, and instead he could continue to go to school with his friends.

He didn't care for his foster parents very much. Their names were Donna and Lawrence Whittaker -- they were kind of weird, religious freaks. The few times I visited Tweek's foster home I was bombarded by visuals of crucifixes and bibles displayed in every room. They said grace before dinner and had mandatory prayer time before bed. Apparently, every morning they would read their foster children bible verses. Their small home always smelled like weird candles and dust. Tweek wasn't particularly religious, and it so it wasn't the most fitting environment for the boy. But at least he was near by, and I think he was grateful for that. Needless to say, the two of us spent most of our time hanging out at my house when we weren't with Clyde and Token at the Black's home.

Tweek struggled a lot for quite a few years after the death of his parents. It wasn't long afterwards that Tweek starting seeing a psychiatrist who prescribed a few medications for generalized anxiety disorder, and a mild case of dysthymia. The medications seemed to help, but it was difficult at first. During that time period, I learned that starting new psychiatric medications can throw your mood completely out of whack before it gets better -- and even then, not all medications work for everyone. For Tweek, it was a lot of trial and error, switching medications month after month until they found the right combination. 

During that time, Tweek was particularly distressed. I had him come over to my house for sleep overs as often as possible, even if we just sat around and did nothing but watch TV, or do homework. Sometimes that's what he needed -- to just be with someone, even when he didn't have the energy to do much else. When he needed to cry, or needed to get things off his mind, he came to me. I was so happy that he trusted me with that kind of stuff. I can distinctly remember a few times he crawled into my bed after he had a nightmare.

Things did start looking up for Tweek once they figured out the right medications for him. For a while, things even kind of felt the same way they did before the death of Mr. and Mrs. Tweak. Though I'm sure it didn't feel that way to him. But I still got opportunities to see him smile and laugh, and we would still sprawl out on my bed some nights, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars pasted on my ceiling, sharing secrets and stories.

But like I've said before, life doesn't stay good forever. The bruises started appearing on Tweek's body around the time 8th grade started. At first, when I would ask him about them, he would curl in on himself nervously, and claim they were nothing more than him accidentally hurting himself in his sleep. After the first time I mentioned the bruises, he started wearing long sleeve shirts every day to cover them up.

One night, when Tweek was spending the night at my house he spilled a bowl of cereal on his green button down, leaving a huge milky, Cocoa Puff-crumb-filled stain down the front of his shirt. I told him to go up to my room to change his shirt -- to borrow one of mine. He went upstairs, but I remembered that my shirts would all be too big for him. I grabbed a top from my laundry room that I had owned for a couple of years at that point; it was getting a little small on me, so I figured that would work best for him. When I reached my bedroom door, shirt in hand, I knocked briefly, but didn't wait for a response. My hand twisted the knob and I entered. "Hey dude, this shirt will prob-" my voice caught in my throat. 

Tweek stood shirtless, rummaging through my drawers. Upon seeing his body, the shirt slipped through my fingers. 

I wish I could tell you that this was the awe-inspiring moment I realized my attraction for the blonde. I wish I could tell you I stood there in shock because he was just so damn cute. I wish I could tell you that at this moment I sauntered over to him and took his face in my hands and pressed my lips to his. Instead, I stood there, staring at his body, shocked by the discoloration that was spread across his torso and arms. 

Bruises. Some were old and yellowing, and others were a fresh dark purple. They varied in size and shape. A few on his arms even distinctly looked like hand marks, as if someone had grabbed the boy too hard.

His face went pale. I shuffled over to where he stood, and gently took one of his wrists in my hand. He didn't protest, so I turned his arm over in my hands to inspect a now-yellowing bruise with four distinct finger-like patches. I brought my other hand to his skin, and gingerly brushed my finger tips against the yellow spots. I peered up at his face to study it. His eyes refused to meet mine.

"Please tell me." I whispered.

He took in a shaky breath, and admitted to me what I had already gathered. "My foster parents... t-they sometimes... h-hit me."

And that's how we ended up spending yet another night together, curled up on my bed, talking with sniffly noses and wet cheeks. By the end of the night, he decided he would report the incidents to his social worker. I let him know I could be there with him if he needed me. 

It was only about a week later when Tweek showed up at my house around 1:00 AM. I woke to the sound of soft thuds on my window. Groggily, I rolled over in bed to see a lump of snow hit the glass.

I waddled over to the window to look outside, where I saw the blonde standing on snow drifts in my back yard with a scarf wrapped around his head, covering his mouth, nose, and ears. My fingers moved to unlock the window, fumbling, while I tried to understand why Tweek decided to show up at such an awful hour. I slid open the glass pane of the window, inviting in a cold gust of air that pulled me out of my sleepy daze.

"Dude, what are you doing?" I tried to keep my voice low; the last thing I wanted was to wake my father. The man was intimidatingly large, and he was pretty much always kind of pissed at me. I did get into a lot of trouble at school, so I guess it figured.

"J-Jesus Christ, man! I've been trying to w-wake you up for like 20 minutes!" He nearly shouted.

"Shhhh! Okay, okay. Keep your voice down. You know I'm a heavy sleeper. Hold on, okay? I'm coming down." I turned and quietly slid out of my room, grabbing my blue chullo hat, and pulling it down over my disheveled hair. I stepped silently down the stairs and flicked on the lights in my kitchen, where I saw Tweek standing against the sliding glass back door. I pulled it open, and gestured for the boy to come inside.

Tweek plopped down at my kitchen table with a small sigh. I instinctively moved toward my parents' coffee machine to make a cup for the freezing teen, now slumped down with his head on the table. We were silent as I poured the dark roast coffee into a mug and gently walked to where he was seated. When I sat down next to him, he lifted his head. 

He didn't smile as he took the coffee in his trembling hands. I wondered if they were shaking from the cold or from nerves. When he finished the entire mug, he sighed and began speaking.

"They're taking m-me away. I told my social worker... I showed h-her the b-bruises. It didn't take long at all, it went s-so fast. She came to the h-house and talked with a few of t-the other foster c-children. Rrg- turns out, I w-wasn't the only one those bastards w-were hitting. Agh- I don't understand why n-none of the other kids reported it earlier. But that was enough evidence for t-them to send me to a different foster h-home. Actually all of the k-kids from my home are being sent s-somewhere else while they do a more formal investigation. Hng- I don't q-quite know where I'll be placed... They said s-something about a place near Denver. I-I don't want to go, but I h-have to." His words tumbled out of his mouth quickly, as if he believed that if he didn't say it all now, he'd never be able to say it. He stared down at the table.

I found myself at a loss for words. I mean, I don't know what else I expected to happen. It's not like the social worker would keep Tweek in a home where he was obviously being abused. But it still came as a shock to me. When the realization finally settled in, I opened my mouth. "When are you leaving?"

"In about five hours. I'm supposed to be asleep right now." He brought his hands to his mouth, where he bit at the skin around his fingernails.

Woah, woah, woah. Five hours? I felt my stomach twist. He looked up at me and caught my eyes. A heavy feeling washed over my body and I felt the stinging of tears in my eyes. I blinked and turned, standing up to grab the coffee pot to pour Tweek another cup. I didn't want him to see me cry over this. This wasn't about me. I should have been glad that he was getting out of that awful situation at the Whittaker's house. I was weak. 

Once I was facing the opposite direction, I wiped my cheek with a clammy hand, grabbed the coffee pot, and took in a deep breath. I turned back around, trying to keep it together. I couldn't.

I met his eyes just as a tear broke free. _Fuck._ He immediately stood up, and took the coffee pot from my hands. I assumed he was taking it so that he could refill his mug, but he sat it down on the stove top beside us, and pulled me into one of the most crushingly tight hugs I've ever received. I didn't care how tight it was. I would have stood there under the firm pressure of Tweek's arms until my hair turned white. 

In that moment, I realized a few things. First of all, that I was, in fact, gay. I had my suspicions before, but that world-stopping hug confirmed it for me. Second, I realized that I undoubtedly had feelings for Tweek. Pretty strong feelings at that. And lastly, I realized that those realizations were nearly meaningless, because within a couple of hours, he'd be gone.

I choked out my next words. "Please stay here. I'm sure my parents would be fine with you staying. We could share a room. You can stay here in South Park with me, and I'll keep you safe. Please..." I found myself crying with greater intensity.

"I c-c-can't." He sighed. "My social worker says as long as t-the Whittaker's are living in South Park, it's not safe for me to b-be here."

I squeezed the fabric of his button down in my fists and let out sob. Fuck, why was I acting like this?

"I-I'll write to you as soon as I get s-settled in my new place." Goddamnit. His stupid fucking foster parents always refused to buy him a cell phone, not even a shitty flip phone. He didn't know where he'd be going, and he didn't even have a phone to text me with. He pulled back to look at me. "Okay?" He wasn't crying. He just looked like he had given up.

"Mm." A grunt was all I managed. I broke away to dig around in the kitchen drawers. My fingers found a pencil and sticky note. I scribbled down a few things for Tweek, and handed him the note. "My address, and my cellphone number too. If you need me for anything, call me from your new house phone. Or even if you don't need me, for that matter."

His lips turned upwards into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. I pulled him into another hug, allowing myself to take in the faint smell of coffee on his skin, and the slight tremble of his muscles.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._

I felt a sense of emptiness the moment he broke free of my arms. Shit. He started walking toward my front door, pulling me along by my arm.

"Goodbye, Craig."

Damnit, I wasn't ready for him to leave. I scrambled to find a reason for him to stay, even for just a minute longer. My right hand twisted at the bracelet on my left wrist as I thought, and I realized that was it: _the bracelet._ "Wait, Tweek." I began fumbling at the tie on the twine bracelet. It was something I made when I was younger -- it consisted of black string and glass beads. Each bead was colored to look like a planet in our solar system. I managed to untie it, and gently pulled Tweek's wrist toward me. His hand shook as I tied the bracelet around his wrist. It was a little too big for him, but it would have to do. "So that you'll remember me."

He let out a short laugh that had no humor in it. "I don't think I'd f-forget you regardless, but t-thanks." He inspected the bracelet with weary eyes.

He pulled me into one final hug before opening my front door. "Bye again, Craig."

"Bye, Tweek."

He smiled weakly, and shut the door behind him, leaving me standing in my foyer. I didn't sleep that night.

A week passed and I found myself checking the mailbox everyday in the hopes of finding a letter from Tweek. Finally one came; I recognized his messy handwriting on the envelope. I tore it open to read it. I read it, and re-read it, probably 6 times. I darted to my room to write a reply to him. After looking at the front of the envelope, I became bewildered and frustrated. There was no return address listed. I assumed he had forgotten it.

But when the next letter came, also devoid of a return address, my heart began to sink. More and more letters came, week after week. None of them had any return addresses. I was so frustrated; I couldn't understand why Tweek wouldn't want me to be able to write back to him.

Eventually, the spaces between the letters grew longer and longer, and the letters themselves grew shorter and shorter, until they stopped coming all together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the layout of the apartment (sorry my handwriting is ass:  
> https://m.imgur.com/a/3wZdV
> 
> This is the bracelet Craig gave Tweek:  
> https://m.imgur.com/a/m7KVW


	4. We're Pissing Away Our Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how about that season finale, huh? I feel so blessed. My heart is full.

Chapter Track: Re-Do -- Modern Baseball

Clyde slammed the bottle down on our cheap kitchen table.

"Wooooooooo!" He howled. Excited about our first night of freedom in college. I rolled my eyes at his ridiculous outburst.

Token checked the time on his iPhone. It was 11:00. "Okay, dude. The party starts at 11:30. We shouldn't get there on time right? It would be pretty fucking lame to show up exactly at 11:30."

"True, but that doesn't mean we can't start our pregame now, right? Let's start, Token!" Clyde began unscrewing the cap of the shitty-looking tequila the Kenny had bought us with his fake ID.

"Wait dude, the girls haven't even shown up yet. And Kenny bought us that, we should at least wait for him and the other guys to get here."

Kenny McCormick wasn't attending classes with us here at Boulder. But Stan, Kyle, and Cartman all were. CU Boulder was a particularly popular choice for the kids from our high school. Since Kenny was 18, and legally and adult, he decided to move out of South Park and live in the apartment his friends were renting. He claimed he needed to have the "college experience," which to him, just meant he wanted to get drunk and high all the time, but not actually put any time or effort into his education. Additionally, he didn't want to be the only guy from his friend group stuck at home. Somehow, I'd formed a decently close bond with Kenny, despite his annoyingly flirtatious personality.

"Ugh, fine. Text him and tell him to hurry up." Clyde said, exasperated.

Twenty minutes passed and we heard a knock on the door. Clyde sprang off of the futon to answer it, nearly tripping over himself in the process. He opened the door to reveal Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny, who was holding a bottle of vodka -- it looked like Recipe 21. The light blue cheap plastic packaging was unmistakable.

"You brought more alcohol, sweet!" Clyde said, grabbing the bottle from Kenny's hands.

"Is that Recipe 21? That shit tastes like Satan drank nail polish remover and then barfed it back up straight into your mouth." I had only had the vodka once before, but damn, was it gross.

"Don't be such a pussy, Craig." Kenny retorted. "We're all taking shots, so suck it up." He pulled down the hood of his orange parka, revealing his blonde hair.

Clyde began setting out the eclectic collection of shot glasses we had gathered. He poured tequila shots for the 7 of us. "Okay then, tequila first, then once we're a little drunk, the Recipe 21 won't taste as bad. Does that work for you, your highness?" He shot me a look. 

I flipped him off. He scoffed.

"Come on, let's get started." Stan spoke up. I wasn't particularly close with Stan Marsh. We'd had some differences in the past, but mostly, I just kind of thought he was a tool. I guess he was tolerable though. He just tried too hard to make people like him, and trouble followed him wherever he went. Why Kenny even hung around him so much was beyond me, especially because of how accident-prone the blonde was.

After taking our first round of shots, there was another knock on the door. Kyle opened it to reveal a couple of girls dressed in low cut shirts and tight skirts. Token had met them in his orientation group, and invited them over to pregame with us. Clyde seemed pretty fucking stoked about it, but I felt slightly uncomfortable having random people in our apartment.

The party we were going to was in someone's house -- Clyde had met a some sophomore guy that claimed he was having a house party, so he and he invited Clyde, and told him to bring his friends. It seemed kind of weird, but I didn't question it. I mean, when you're a freshman guy at college, you don't exactly have a lot of options if you want to go to social events. Frats don't let freshman guys in, and that narrows down your options a lot.

A couple shots in, I was approached by one of the girls Token had invited. She messily plopped down on the futon next to me, and tucked her long brown hair behind her ear. Her eyes were half lidded, indicating to me that she was already kind of drunk. "Hey, my name's Brooke. What's yours?"

"Craig." I tried to sound as uninterested as possible. I flipped through old texts on my phone, trying to pretend to be busy.

"Oh, really?? I knew a Craig in high school. He kind of looked like you too... but you're way cuter than he was." She smiled sheepishly, playing with the ends of her hair.

"Oh, really?" I said flatly. "That's nice." My face was still buried in my phone.

"Yeah, you know, I bet you'd be even cuter if you took that hat off." She reached for my blue chullo hat. It'd been with me for so many years, so it was pretty dingy, but I liked how I looked with my hat on. I was so used to its presence on my head that it was almost as if it had become an extension of my being. Her hand wrapped around the yellow puff-ball at the top, and she quickly plucked the hat off of my head, leaving my hair sticking out in all directions. The girl snickered at my static-frizzed hair. 

"Give that back." My hands reached for the hat, but she pulled it back away from my grip.

"Let me fix your hair first." Her hand found the top of my head, where she began to smooth out the frizz. I retreated from her touch and frowned. She sat back and smiled, admiring her work.

"I knew it! You're like lowkey-highkey hot!" She practically squealed it. Lowkey-highkey? I wondered how much of her behavior was caused by the alcohol in her system. I looked at her face for long enough to determine that if I was actually attracted to girls, I would be flattered, and maybe flirt back, but she kind of reeked of desperation right now, and that wasn't exactly scoring her any points.

"Thanks, I'll be sure to tell my boyfriend you think so." I snatched my hat from her hand, pulled it back over my head, stood up, and walked to the table where Clyde was enthusiastically, yet sloppily, pouring a few of the girls a round of tequila shots. Brooke sat there in shock for a moment.

Okay, so I lied. I didn't have a boyfriend, but at least I made my point that I wasn't interested.

"Pour me another one, Clyde."

__________

We had been walking for about 10 minutes, when we started to be able to hear the thumping bass of a near by party. 

I felt someone touch my right side. I looked down to see an orange-clad arm wrapping itself around mine. "Hey, Tucker."

"McCormick." I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Soooo you have a boyfriend, huh?" He chuckled, his breath smelled faintly of cheap alcohol. I guess he heard my conversation with the girl earlier. "Does this mean you're finally over your long-distance love for Tweek? I have to admit, I'm kind of disappointed. I always thought that once your boner for Tweek died down, you'd come after me."

"What?? No, dude, I don't actually have a boyfriend, I just said that to get that girl off of my back. And don't fucking flatter yourself." I said, untangling my arm from his.

"Oh, no boyfriend, huh? Does that mean I still have a chance?" Kenny batted his eyelashes and spoke with a mocking tone. Ugh why did he have to be so goddamn embarrassing?

"Pft, you wish." I raised an eyebrow at the blonde. "Also, I've told you, I got over Tweek a long time ago. You know I dated someone else right?"

"Yeah, yeah, the kid that looked strikingly similar to Tweek? He even kind of acted like him! Yeah, that _reeaally_ proved you were over him." The sarcasm dripped from his voice.

"Thomas and Tweek don't act the same!" I felt defensive all the sudden.

"Okay, okay, calm down Tucker." He laughed. "If you're so over him, then prove it."

"How?"

He wiggled his eyebrows at me, and pursed his lips into a kissing face, drawing me in with his arms.

"Fuck off, McCormick." I shoved him off of me.

"Damn you, Craig Tucker. You love me, and you know it!" He shook his fist in mock frustration.

"Does your ass get jealous of all the shit that comes out of your mouth??"

"No, but it is pretty jealous of your fine ass." He winked at me. 

I groaned in response as we reached the stoop of the house Clyde had directed us to. Flashing colored lights poured through the foggy windows. Great. Fogged up windows meant there were a ton of sweaty people.

My suspicions were confirmed when we walked through the front door to find the house packed. It was hot inside, and everything was sticky, covered in a layer of spilled beer.

Speaking of beer, more alcohol was probably just what I needed to make this place seem less gross -- or at least get me to a point where I cared a little less. I made my way to the kitchen, where I found an unopened rack of Keystone Light. I tore the top open and grabbed a can.

I was already 3 shots in, but it didn't have much of an effect on me. I'd been drinking somewhat regularly for quite a few years, and that, compounded with my 6-foot height and solid build made my alcohol tolerance pretty high.

I quickly downed the beer -- it was warm. Gross. I grabbed another and popped it open, but my eyes found a table where there were assorted bottles of liquor -- a much better option.

And so I stood there by myself, taking shot after shot, and wondered what I looked like to outsiders. Was it weird to take shots alone? I really just wanted to be in a different mind state. This was the start of a new chapter in my life, and I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to forget my life up until that point. I wanted to feel fresh and different. I wanted to start over.

After pouring and taking a few shots, I was interrupted by a hand on my shoulder. "Come here, dude Kenny and I have next on a pong table! It's 21 cup, we want you on our team." Token gestured for me to follow him through the dense crowd of sweaty, gyrating bodies.

Upon arriving at the table, I saw Kenny standing along side the game, watching the two currently competing teams hash it out. Kenny was pretty talented when it came to drinking games, so I assumed he was watching everyone's moves to scope out our competition. One of the teams had only one cup left. I watched as a girl on the opposing team swiftly and accurately landed the cup. The two teams shook hands, and we started to reset the table to take the place of the losing team.

"Craig, you should take that guy with the red shirt, so stand on the left side of the table. Token, you take the guy with the stupid fedora on the right. I want the girl." Kenny had obviously assessed their skill levels and set us up according to what he thought we could handle.

We started the game with Kenny throwing the first shot, and easily sinking a cup.

"Don't fuck her up too bad!" Some drunk kid watching the game hassled her. She rolled her eyes.

"I think I can handle whatever this guy can dish out." She looked Kenny dead in the eye.

Kenny smirked. "No holding back then?"

She shook her head. "It's on."

The game pushed forward, with Kenny making almost every shot. The girl at the other end was taking it like a real champ; she was making almost as many cups as he was.

The guy I was up against was... less impressive. He sunk a few here and there, but it was obvious he wasn't exactly leading the team. He looked a little irritated as he tossed his white ping pong ball, and sent it arching through the air, straight into a cup. I grabbed the cup and looked at him. He smirked and winked at me. 

That was a little weird, but I ignored it. A few minutes later and we had their team down to the final cup. Kenny took his shot, and surprisingly enough, missed. Token shot, and also missed.

I squared up, took in a breath, and let my ball sail through the air. It made contact with a cup, hitting the rim and then spinning around inside the red solo cup before spiraling its way down into the beer below.

"Yes!" Token exclaimed. "Nice one, Craig!"

I felt Kenny's hand make sharp contact with my butt. "Hell yeah, Tucker!"

I yelped at the sudden stinging in my rear end. I turned and scowled at the blonde. All he offered in return was a chuckle and a shrug of the shoulders. Asshole.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the guy in the red shirt approach me, one hand grasping the red solo cup I had just sunk, and the other hand extended. 

"Nice game, dude. My name's Thomas, call me Tom." Up close the guy was actually kind of attractive. He had short blonde hair, and stood a couple of inches beneath me. I thought back to how he'd winked at me during the game.

"Thomas. That's my father's name. Also one of my ex's names." I took the guy's outstretched hand and shook it once. Fuck, was that a weird thing to say? I couldn't tell -- the alcohol was starting to take its effect. "I'm Craig."

The guys face lit up at the word "ex," as I can only assume he pieced together the fact that I was into guys. "Craig. I like that. I'm going to go get another drink, but you should come find me after you're done here." He winked again and walked away.

Done here? Done where?? I felt Kenny tapping on my shoulder. "Dude, we're playing again."

Oh yeah, winner stays on the table. We set up for the new game, as three girls took their positions at the other end of the table.

They fucking wiped the floor with us. Each one of them was almost as skilled as Kenny was. They looked a little older -- they were probably a group of seniors that had spent four years perfecting their game. 

Before too long, the girl on the left sunk our last cup. Token was the first to speak up. "Well shit." He placed the ball he was holding into the water cup. "Hey, I'm going to go find Cartman. He took my jacket earlier, and hid it in a bedroom so no one would steal it, and I'd like to know where it is, since it has my phone in it."

"Okay, dude, good luck." Kenny said as Token walked away. I picked up the final cup I had to drink and downed it.

In an instant, Kenny was standing right in front of me, so close that I could smell the beer on his breath. "Hey-" he said, pulling a ziplock bag out of his pocket, "want to go smoke?" He dangled the bag of weed in front of my face.

"God, I thought you'd never offer." I groaned. He grabbed my wrist and led me down a hallway and toward a door. The alcohol was starting to really hit me at this point. Kenny pushed his way through the door, leading us into a small backyard space. He must have scoped out this area earlier.

The blonde sat down ungracefully against the brick of the house, and took out his rolling papers. As he began pulling one out of the packaging, he paused.

"Do you want to smoke a blunt instead of a joint? I just remembered that I got a pack of wraps." He looked at me with questioning eyes.

"Who do you think I am? Why would I ever chose a joint over a blunt? Fuck me up, man."

Kenny chuckled and pulled out a pack of mango white owls, carefully removing one from the package. He silently pulled out a knife, sliced it open, and dumped the tobacco back into the package.

I raised my eyebrow at him. "Do you seriously save the tobacco? You poor bastard." He sat the empty wrap down on a relatively flat rock.

"Fuck off, Craig. I don't have to share with you, you know." He emptied his bag of weed onto the wrap and began rolling.

"Fine, fine. It's very resourceful of you, Kenny. It's important to learn how to live on a college student budget... Oh wait, you're not actually going to college, are you?" I said mockingly.

"Don't push your luck, Tucker." He glared at me without breaking his concentration from the half-finished blunt in his hands. 

I laughed at him. "Seriously, thanks for always smoking me up." He grunted in response while in the midst of licking the blunt. 

When he finished, he lit the end and took a sizable hit, allowing the diffused smoke to exit through his nostrils. "So dude, that guy in the red shirt asked you to meet up with him?"

What? Oh yeah. I had almost forgotten. "Maybe? I don't know."

"You should. Hooking up with some random guy might be a refreshing change for you." He took another hit before passing the blunt my direction.

I took a hit and contemplated the idea, holding in my breath for a while. I exhaled loudly, and immediately felt calmer. I did have a tendency to be a bit uptight when it came to my choices in potential suitors. Random hookups weren't really my thing. I had minimal sexual experience. Thomas and I had only dated for a few months, and in that time we didn't really get very far, sexually speaking. It's just that you have to put yourself in a really vulnerable position. The thought of sex actually kind of freaked me out a bit. I mean, you're completely exposed in front of an other person. Allowing someone be in that position with me would require a lot of trust. 

"Maybe I will. He was pretty cute." I certainly didn't want to have sex with some stranger, but I could see myself at least making out with a random stranger. I took another hit and started to feel it's effects.

"You've got a real thing for blondes, huh Tucker?" He said, winking.

"Man, I don't know, I don't really care about hair. It's just coincidence that most of my romantic interests have been blonde. It's the mind beneath the hair that counts -- the person inside." What was I even saying? 'The person inside'? I immediately felt embarrassed at what I had said. Weed always made me go on cheesy tangents. I took a third hit.

"Dude, that's so gay." Kenny stared at me.

I breathed out smoke. "It is."

"Just so you know, for you, I'm always available if you're looking for another blonde to hook up with." He threw his arm around my shoulder and brought his face close to mine, before plucking the the blunt from my finger tips. "By the way, it's puff-puff pass, asshole. You took three hits." He placed the blunt in his mouth.

"My bad."

Kenny and I had gotten into a pretty heated makeout session once a few years back. Ever since then he's relentlessly flirted with me, just to try to get a reaction out of me, and much to my chagrin, he was often successful. He was a good looking guy, with his strong jawline and light brown eyes. In a strangely rugged way, he was kind of pretty.

We sat together, passing the blunt back and forth until Kenny decided to roach it. We got up and stumbled back inside. Upon entering, I broke away from Kenny to wander around the house to find a bathroom. I had to go upstairs before I finally found a place where I could relieve myself. I pushed the door open and nearly tripped on my way in. 

While washing my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror and sighed. I was continually underwhelmed by my reflection. I felt like the picture of averageness. My plain black hair stuck out from beneath my hat, where it just barely reached my eyebrows. I'd probably need a haircut soon. My skin was (thankfully) finally clear of the acne that had riddled my face throughout high school, and the teeth which were crooked during my awkward phase in middle school had been realigned by braces. I looked at my eyes. They were incredibly bloodshot from smoking, and it made my irises look even more blue than normal. I didn't quite understand what it was that made people like that girl from earlier think I was so attractive. I guess my jawline's pretty sharp? But all in all, I was incredibly ordinary.

I took my hat off to fix my hair underneath, as if anyone would actually see it. I pulled it back over my head and stepped back, glancing at myself one last time before exiting the bathroom.

I made my way to the table with the liquor, where I poured myself another shot. I took it rather ungracefully, but felt next to no burn on the way down. I wanted a beer, but room temperature Keystone Light wasn't exactly appealing to me. Feeling a little bold from the alcohol, I made my way to the fridge that I assumed I shouldn't be going through. I opened it to reveal a pretty standard college student assortment of foods -- leftovers in Tupperware, takeout Chinese food still in it's cardboard packaging, a couple slices of pizza, and finally, beer. Beer in cans and beer in bottles. I grabbed a dark brown bottle, and looked at the label: it was some sort of IPA that I didn't recognize. It would do.

I rummaged through kitchen drawers until I found a bottle opener. I fumbled to get the top off with unsteady hands. "Fuck." I cursed as the metal clanged together unsuccessfully.

Before my mind could process what happened, a hand reached over my shoulder and took the bottle out of my grasp. I turned to find Tom, opening my beer with sure and confident hands -- the top popped off with a quiet hiss.

"Craig", he said, handing me the beer.

"Tom." I mimicked his tone. He put his hand on the counter, cornering me. It almost seemed a little ridiculous, given the fact that I had a few inches on him. I took a swig of beer.

"So, you taking classes at Boulder?" He raised his eyebrows above his light blue eyes.

"Yeah, I'm a freshman."

"Oh, a little freshy, huh?" The corners of his lips twitched upward.

I snorted. I don't know why, it wasn't funny. But the alcohol was really taking a hold on me, and the weed made everything seem funny. I started downing the beer faster.

"So Craig, if I'm remembering correctly, you told me you had an ex named Thomas." He cocked his head to the side and examined my facial features with his eyes.

"You are remembering correctly."

"So, an ex huh? Does that mean you're single?" He leaned in closer. I could make out a slight blonde stubble.

"Um, yes." Fuck, this guy was direct. He got even closer to my face.

"Well then, do you want to go dance?" He smirked at me.

"Why not?" Fuck it. After all, I did want to change my life. I might as well try something different.

Tom grabbed my hand and led me to an area packed with bodies moving to the beat of loud music. He pushed through the mass of people, pulling me behind him until he found a break in the crowd, at which point he turned to me and pulled me up against his body. His hands found my waist, and he began moving his pelvis under mine. I wasn't exactly a dancer, but I went with it, trying to mimic his movements. I draped my arms over his shoulders and pushed up against him harder.

He seemed to be encouraged my actions, because he removed a hand from my waist and placed it on my neck. He pulled my face down to his and held my gaze for a brief second, before pressing his lips roughly against mine. He wasted no time being gentle, and before long his tongue was exploring my mouth. I don't remember how long we spent on the dance floor making out, and quite frankly, I don't know why I kept doing it. He definitely wasn't the best kisser. It was too wet and too hard, but I was pretty fucking drunk, and I just kept going with it.

At some point, he pulled back, keeping his hands on my body. He looked at me -- there was desire behind his gaze. It sent chills through my body in a way that was less than pleasant. Something about it felt... off. He moved his head to whisper in my ear: "follow me."

I didn't really process what he said until he was already pulling me up a set of stairs by my hand. I kept looking at my feet, focusing on walking straight. When I looked up next, I was inside a bedroom. Suddenly Tom was on me again, his mouth made contact with the skin of my neck. My breath caught in my throat, causing an audible noise, which again encouraged Tom further.

He pushed me back onto a stiff bed, which squeaked loudly under my weight. This was going all too fast. Tom climbed on top of me, and began biting at the skin on my collarbone. He positioned himself so that he was straddling one of my thighs. That's when I noticed it: he was hard. The pressure of his groin on my leg sobered me up enough to realize that this isn't what I wanted. He pulled his face back up to mine and hungrily pressed his mouth against my lips. He began pushing a hand up my shirt.

Nope, I had to end this. "Mmph" I mumbled into his mouth, pushing my hands against his chest. He seemed to think my noise was one of pleasure, because he pushed against me harder and moaned breathily.

"Mmph, nn-" I pushed harder against his chest, and managed to turn my head to the side. He got the hint, and pulled back, sitting on my thigh.

"You okay, Craig?" He said, wiping his mouth.

"Um, yeah, sorry. I need to go." I pulled my leg out from underneath him and rolled off of the bed, crashing down onto the floor on my hands and knees. Fuck, my knees were probably going to bruise.

"Whoa, take it easy." He scrambled off the bed to help me up. "You don't have to leave so soon. You should stay." He pulled me up by my arms, and once I was righted, he quickly wrapped his arms around my waist again. "You wouldn't regret it." He stared at me with that same look he had earlier.

"No, sorry, but I want to leave." He dropped his arms.

"Okay, Craig. I hope to see you again..." I moved toward the door.

"Yeah," was all I said as I made my way out of the bedroom. I shut the door defiantly behind me, and carefully made my way down the stairs, clutching tightly to the handrail.

I was about to leave, when I saw Kenny sitting on a couch, with the girl from the pong game sitting on his lap. I walked over to the two of them. Kenny looked up, saw me approaching, and smiled.

"Hey, Tucker." His expression dropped. "You look fucking wasted, man. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but I'm really tired. I want to leave. Have you seen Clyde or Token?" I placed my hand on my head in hopes of stopping the room from spinning.

"No, I haven't. Do you need me to walk home with you?" He looked genuinely concerned. Despite his obnoxious demeanor, Kenny was actually a good friend. He had this protective side to him, which came out every now and then. It was especially prominent around his younger sister, Karen. He loved his sister more than anything. One of the most difficult aspects of moving away from home for Kenny must have been leaving Karen behind.

"No, thanks. If you see them, let them know I headed home. I'll shoot them a text too." The girl on Kenny's lap was starting to look impatient with my interruption.

"Are you sure? You really don't look so good." He began moving as if to take the girl off of his lap and stand up. I stopped him.

"I'm sure. Really. Thanks though." I stumbled away toward the door, and burst out into the August night. Thankfully it was still warm enough that I didn't regret my decision to leave my jacket at home. I could hear the quiet hum of cars in the distance. The street lamps cast cones of light on the sidewalk before me.

I started walking, feeling pretty numb to the situation I had just been in. That Tom guy was attractive and all, but it just didn't feel right. Something was off about the way he looked at me, like I was a piece of meat and he'd been starving for days. I sighed audibly and realized that sober-me would be glad I decided to walk away when I did.

I pulled out my phone to send a text to the group message titled "squad" followed by an unsightly number of emojis: Clyde's idea of a good name for our roommate group message.

My fingers began tapping the screen of my phone. "Hey dudes, I just left the party. I'm headed home now, just so that you aren't looking for me when you go to leave."

At least that's what I tried to type. I reread the message after I sent it; it was full of typos and poorly autocorrected words. Fuck it, I'm sure I got my point across. I stuffed my phone back into my pants pocket and looked up. I noticed the street I was on was lined with apartment buildings. I was headed the right direction thankfully. Looking back on it I'm not at all sure how I managed to remember the way back home. 

When my apartment building came into view, I almost started crying tears of joy at the thought of my bed and sleep.

After fumbling with the lock on my front door for a while, I finally managed to get inside. I nearly ran up the stairs and crashed onto my bed.

Holy shit, I was so glad to be in bed. Tomorrow was Sunday, and I could sleep in and relax. Classes would start on Monday, and everything would finally feel different. I couldn't wait. My eyes fluttered shut, and within a matter of minutes I was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who shows up in the next chapter?? Finally, friends, finally.
> 
> So true story, my dad's name is Robert, and I somehow dated two guys named Robert (literally the only two Roberts beside my dad that I've ever met), and then about a month ago I met a guy named Robert and awkwardly told him, "That's my dad's name. Also I dated two different Roberts." So fuck me.
> 
> Also I definitely have a thing for strong women who fucking rock at beer pong, in case you couldn't tell.


	5. Put an End to This Isolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just an FYI to all my lovely readers out there, I'm a college student heading into finals week rn, and it's about to get ugly for me. So I might be MIA for the next couple of weeks while I try to get my shit together. Pls pray for my mental health.
> 
> The good news is, after that, I have winter break! And this year, because I'm studying abroad next semester, I have an extra long, 2 month winter break. So, I will have lots of free time to write!
> 
> Also, I'm so happy with the positive feedback I've gotten on this! Thanks you guys! You've made my first experience on this website a great one!

Chapter Track: Bloom -- Turnover

I woke up with a throbbing pain in my head and a feeling of nausea in my stomach. Fucking great. I checked my phone and saw that it was 11:40.

I wanted nothing more than to lay in bed for a few more hours, but the pressure in my bladder and the nagging dry sensation in my throat forced me to roll out of bed. My head was swimming. As I stood up, I noticed that I hadn't changed out of my clothes from the previous night. I don't quite remember when it happened, but somehow there was a stain down the front of my shirt that smelled vaguely of beer.

I made my way into the kitchen; it was empty. I padded over to the cupboards, pulled out a glass and filled it with tap water. Sweet relief flooded my throat as I downed the entire glass. I refilled it and took a couple Advil in the hopes of calming my headache.

I walked over to the bathroom. When I entered, I noticed the steam on the mirror. Either Clyde or Token must have been in there recently. My fingers fumbled with the shower handle as I tried to figure out how to work it. When I finally got it, I turned the heat up all the way so that the water could get hot. I stripped down, and relieved the pressure building in my bladder before stepping into the shower. I let the near-scalding water run over my head for a few minutes. As I stood there, I began to recall the events of the previous night: I had met some guy named Tom... I couldn't remember if he told me what class year he was at Boulder... or if he was even enrolled at Boulder for that matter. He was pretty goddamn pushy, but he was also pretty attractive too. Though the whole situation ended awkwardly, I found myself satisfied with the fact that I'd managed to catch the attention of a cute guy that easily. Maybe I was actually more attractive than I realized? Wishful thinking, I'm sure.

I squeezed a generous amount of shampoo into my hand and worked it through my hair. Maybe this whole college thing would go better than expected. I hated to admit it, but I was kind of a closet romantic, and I was encouraged by the idea that I might finally be able to find a good guy here. College started to feel like endless, wonderful possibilities. If I hadn't been so hung over, I probably would have been so happy.

While washing my body, I noticed the two bruises coloring my knees. Damn -- most nights of drinking I can manage to get through unscathed. Bruises always meant I'd gone a tad overboard on the alcohol. Whoops. I poked at the purple splotches gently to test their tenderness. They were pretty sore.

I sighed loudly. Hopefully I'd be able to take care of myself this year. Part of college was learning how to be an adult so that you could live on your own and not fuck yourself up too badly. But I wasn't sure how responsible I could manage to be. I didn't know anything about cooking, and only knew the mere basics about laundry. Was I supposed to start scheduling my own doctors appointments? How do you even clean a toilet? I was going to have to start paying for bullshit I didn't want to spend my money on, like toilet paper and dish soap. Hopefully the transition to adulthood wouldn't be too confusing. But maybe adulthood held the key to filling this weird void in my life. That was the goal, at least.

When I finished in the shower, I wrapped a towel around my body and stepped out onto the bathmat. The queasy feeling in my abdomen just wasn't letting up. A quiet groan escaped from my lips. I opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the apartment. I nearly jumped out of my towel when I heard someone address me.

"Craig!" Clyde blurted through the silence. I whipped around in surprise.

"Dammit, Clyde." I readjusted my grip on the towel, shooting him a look that could kill. Why did Clyde have to be a morning person? Scratch that, Clyde was an 'all-day' person. He was always at 100% and it was fucking annoying.

"Sorry." He scratched at the back of his head and looked down. "Hey, so, am I mistaken, or did you hookup with the host of the party last night?" A smile cracked across his face.

The party's host? "Wait, what??" This wasn't helping my headache.

"Yes! I saw you and Tom on the dance floor. Then I watched him take you upstairs." His smile grew wider. "You know, I support your sexual prowess, Craig, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't fuck my new friends."

"Friends?" I still wasn't quiet grasping what Clyde was saying. I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Don't be so dense Craig. Tom is the one that invited me to the party. That was his house we were at." I briefly wondered how anyone could stand to live in that beer-coated shithole. The thought of having to spend more than a couple hours in that house made me cringe.

"Tom is the sophomore you met?" My brain slowly worked as I recalled what Clyde had just accused me of. "And I didn't 'fuck' him, Jesus Christ, dude." I snapped.

"Uh-huh." He smirked and returned to the bowl of cereal that was sitting on the coffee table. I grumbled and flipped him off before I stalked back to my room.

I towel-dried my hair and threw on a pair of clean jeans and t-shirt. I grabbed my wallet and slipped into my back pocket. My hat was carelessly tossed on the floor; something I must have drunkenly done last night without realizing. I scooped it off of the gray carpeting and exited my room. I stopped into the bathroom and blow dried my hair, roughly combed through it with my fingers, and tugged my hat over my head.

I paused to look at myself in the mirror. Dark circles sat heavily under my eyes. It looked like I'd missed an entire night of sleep. I quickly brushed my teeth and made my way back out into the apartment. Clyde was sitting on the futon, playing The Last of Us on my PS4. He was so stuck up about his Xbox, and always claimed that it was the superior gaming system. But when he heard about The Last of Us coming out, and how it was exclusive to PS3 he got kind of pissed. I wasn't terribly interested in the game at first, but eventually, after a remastered version was released for the PS4, I caved and gave it a try. It ended up being one of my all-time favorite games. Clyde was pretty excited when I told him I'd be bringing my PS4 to the apartment; now I understood why.

I glanced at him. He clearly wasn't familiar with the PlayStation controller. On the screen, I could see that he was still fumbling through the introduction part, where all you have to do is play as a little girl, and walk around exploring a house.

He looked up at me as I passed by. "You heading out?" His forehead creased in concentration. 

"Yeah, I'm going to walk to those stores down the street. I want to see if I can get some sort of ginger tea or something -- I'm feeling a little nauseous." My hand moved toward my stomach.

"Okay, man, see ya later." He returned his focus to the game. I moved toward the door. "Oh, wait. Token and I were planning to walk to campus this afternoon to see where all of our classes are. That way we aren't completely lost trying to find them tomorrow. Do you want to come with us?" He didn't remove his eyes from the screen. 

"Uh, sure, I guess. I'll see how I feel. Today seems like the kind of day where I might need to take a nap, so... I'll let you know." My hand made contact with the door knob.

"Okay! Bye." He called after me as I exited. I tromped down the stairs loudly and made my way outside. The bright sun on my face exacerbated my headache. That Advil wasn't doing shit for me. I squinted and pulled my hat down further, as if that was going to help.

As I trudged down the street, I noticed a slight pain in my knees upon the repetitive motion. Thankfully the shops weren't far away.

I passed a small dress boutique, some metaphysical crystal healing store, a smoke shop, and a subway. Across the street was a McDonald's and a tattoo parlor. As I grew close to the end of the block I noticed a Starbucks on the opposite side of the street situated on the corner. Bingo.

I crossed the street and pushed my way into the shop. The familiar scent of coffee flooded my nose as I entered. Coffee wasn't my favorite drink, but damn, I loved the way it smelled. I took a deep breath and walked toward the counter, but what I saw there stopped me in my tracks. Behind the bar, frantically making drinks, was a blonde-haired, green-eyed figure. His fingers were wrapped with a few bandaids, and his unruly hair was pinned back with clips. Freckles lightly arched across his upturned nose, and he bit at his bottom lip with perfectly straight, white teeth. Dark circles rested beneath his eyes. He was missing a name tag, but he was unmistakable: Tweek.

He was the same as ever, yet different; the last few years of puberty must have treated him well. He'd grown quite a bit since I'd last seen him. His green apron was pulled tight around his midriff, clearly showing that the pudgy stomach he'd had in his younger years was gone. I could make out his defined collarbone just above his oversized-sweater, and admired his sharp jawline. By some weird twist of genetics, Tweek had been blessed with dark, full eyelashes, despite his blonde hair. God, he looked _really_ good. 

I watched his hand shake ever so slightly as he squirted whipped cream on top of what looked like a milkshake. He snapped a dome lid over top and placed it on the pick-up counter.

"Tall vanilla bean frappuccino with whipped cream for Lisa." His voice was deeper than I'd remembered. And was his stutter gone? 

Yeah, puberty had definitely been good to him. What was he doing here though? I swallowed a lump that had formed in my throat, and approached the register. One of Tweek's coworkers was working the machine and passing orders to him. 

"Hi, what can I get for you?" The girl behind the register smiled politely. Her curly black hair was pulled back into a full-bodied ponytail atop her head. A few loose curls dangled around the dark skin of her face.

"Um, do you have any ginger tea?" I kept my peripheral vision focused on Tweek. He hadn't noticed me yet, or if he had, he didn't recognize me. He seemed very focused on his work. I wanted to see if he would recognize me.

"Unfortunately, we don't. I'm sorry about that. We have a mint tea, peach, earl gray..." She continued listing off teas. Damn. I really wanted ginger for my stomach. But I was already here, and I'd waited in line. I wasn't about to walk out without a drink, and I especially wasn't going to walk out without speaking to my former best friend.

"Okay, I'll have a mint tea then. Venti, please." I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket. I honestly had no clue how big a 'venti' even was. I just said the same size as the customer in front of me because I didn't want to sound like an idiot.

"Name?" She grabbed a rather large cup and looked at me with questioning eyes.

"Um, Craig." She scribbled my name and order onto the cup and placed it next to the others waiting to be made my Tweek.

She collected my money and returned my change. I slowly moved toward the pick-up counter, where I lingered awkwardly, watching Tweek preform his barista duties.

He looked pretty stressed out. His hands were moving with an intensity I wasn't used to seeing. I watched for his expression when he picked up my cup and saw my name. Wishful thinking allowed me to dream that he would see my name, look up to examine the faces of his customers, spot me, and come leaping over the counter to embrace his long-lost friend.

But reality never plays out the way it does in my head. Tweek's expression didn't change as he read my name. Engrossed in his work, he continued on just as he had with the previous drink orders. When he'd finished with my drink, he slipped a sleeve around the cup and snapped a lid into place. 

"Venti Mint Majesty tea for Craig." He placed the cup on the counter without looking up. I scrambled forward to grab my drink.

"Thanks..." I uttered, hoping he would recognize my voice and look up. But he was already turning away to begin his work on the next drink. Fuck. "...Tweek."

He stopped mid-turn and whipped back around to see who had addressed him by name. His eyes trailed from the counter, to my chest, and finally to my face. Our eyes locked and my stomach flipped in a way that had once been familiar but was long forgotten. His eyes widened.

"Hi." I choked out, smiling sheepishly. I don't quite know what I expected; maybe I thought he would grin and excitedly and tell me how much he'd missed me. At the least, I expected a positive reaction.

What I received instead was a drawn out stare filled with shock. "How did you find me?" He blinked.

"I- I live down the street. I'm going to school at CU Boulder... I didn't expect to find you here." I stammered out ineloquently. For just a moment, I swore I saw a smile flash across his mouth, but it was gone so fast I couldn't tell if my hopeful brain had just imagined it. His expression contorted into something that looked pained. Emotions flashed across his face: shock, fear, anger. It looked like the gears in head were turning violently. This wasn't the reaction I wanted. 

After an agonizing pause, he spoke the last words I expected to hear: "You should just leave, Craig." There was a slight hint of sadness in his voice. He turned abruptly and stalked off into the back room, leaving his coworker to scramble to fill orders. The nausea in my stomach grew stronger. I don't know how long I stood there at the counter looking confused and hurt. The girl who had taken my order placed a drink on the pick-up counter and called out for the customer. She looked at me, concerned.

"Did he say something to you? I'm sorry, he usually doesn't let his temper show when he's on the floor." She wiped down the counter before starting to make the final drink in the line up.

It broke me out of my trance. "No, it's fine. He's a childhood friend of mine... I- I don't know why he doesn't want to talk to me. I haven't seen him in years..." I stared beyond her face toward the back room.

"You mean from back when he lived in that little mountain town?" Her face lit up as she pieced together who I was. "Oh! Your name is Craig! Tweek's mentioned you before." She finished the last drink order and called out the name. The girl extended a hand in my direction. "I'm Ava."

Tweek mentioned me? I was so confused. This was way too much to take in at once. Out of nowhere I was reintroduced to my childhood friend -- my childhood crush, for that matter. And he tells me he doesn't want me around? I thought we left things on good terms? I mean, it was sad, but we certainly weren't mad at each other. And now I'm finding out that he talks to his coworker about me? None of this made any sense.

I grabbed her hand an shook it briefly. "What has he said about me?" The question fell out of my mouth before I could decide if it was appropriate to ask or not.

She shrugged and looked downward, as if considering how much she was willing to tell me. "He's only really said that you were his best friend growing up." She started messing with one of the machines. "Do you want to try to talk to him again? He sometimes acts weird when he's stressed out, so maybe that's why he ran into the back. He'll have to come back out here soon, I need him on bar."

"Um, yeah I'll stick around for a few minutes." I finally found the strength to move my feet, so I wandered over to a couch by the window and plopped down onto it, tea in hand. Steam poured out of the hole in the lid, wafting a sweet, minty scent toward my nose. I tried to process what had just happened, but came to no conclusion. My chest felt heavy and my stomach was doing backflips. 

Ava made her way into the back room and returned after a minute. A moment later, Tweek came out, following her. His head was down and his face looked red. As he began cleaning behind the bar, I noticed how much he was now shaking. I caught eyes with Ava for a moment as she organized pastries behind the glass display case. She smiled at me and tilted her head toward Tweek, as if encouraging me to speak to him again.

I took a sip of my tea -- it was still way too hot. I silently stood up and walked toward the bar. Tweek looked up and saw me approaching. He jumped a little bit and quickly returned to gathering dirty dishes, keeping his head low.

"Tweek." I said with gentleness in my voice. "I want to talk to you." He paused what he was doing, but didn't look up. "Please. I'm confused."

He let out a shaky, tired sigh. "Please don't make this any harder for me, Craig." He looked defeated. 

I didn't know what to say. I had no clue what he even meant. Make what harder? I let out a breath that I didn't realize I was holding in. 

I didn't know why I was upsetting him so much, but the look on his face and the waver of his voice made me realize my presence at his work was not what he needed. 

Feeling like I had no better option, I turned and stalked out of the Starbucks. I walked fast and shakily, spilling the hot tea on my hand multiple times. Halfway back to my apartment, I couldn't contain my nausea any longer. I wish I could say I found a trash can, but unfortunately, the closest thing was a sewer drain situated against the sidewalk. I leaned over the edge of the concrete on my hands and knees and unloaded the watery contents of my stomach into the drain. It was nothing but bile.

I had spent a solid two years of my life dreaming about being reunited with Tweek one day. All of the stories in my head had played out happily, with me getting the chance to hold him in my arms like I had the night he left. Why was this the way things played out? It wasn't over, I knew that. I wasn't about to give up. This _isn't_ how it was going to end.

I stood up and wiped at my mouth with my sleeve. I continued down the street until I finally reached the apartment. I lumbered up the stairs to find Clyde in the exact same spot I'd left him in, still playing The Last of Us.

"Hey man. Did you find what you were looking for?" He turned his head to look back at me.

"Yeah, I did find what I was looking for." I started to feel kind of numb. I poured myself a glass of water and trudged off to my room, leaving my tea on the counter. But before I could make my retreat, Clyde stopped me.

"Wait, Craig." I turned back to him. "Did you decide if you're going to come check out campus with us?" He didn't tear his eyesight from the screen. 

I checked the time on my phone. It was almost 1:00. "I'd like to come with you guys. What time did you want to go?"

"We were shooting for 2:00."

"If you go at like, 4:00 or 4:30, I'll join you. I need more sleep." I rubbed at my eyes as if to add emphasis to my point.

"Okay man, I know it was a busy night for you last night," he wiggled his eyebrows at me and smirked, "so go get some sleep. We'll wait until 4:30."

Some days, Clyde could really get on my fucking nerves. But moments like these reminded me why I was his friend. He could be really accommodating, and generally had my best interest in mind. For whatever fucking reason, he had decided that he cared about me -- me, a deadpan asshole that offers no real reward for a friendship you have to fight to maintain. The kindness Clyde gave me was something that helped pull me through when I was struggling with Tweek leaving. He was there for my while I was panicking about coming out as gay. I remember him offering be there with me when I told my parents. He treated me better than what I deserved.

I gave him a soft smile from behind tired eyes. "Thanks, dude." 

I shuffled into my room, shutting the door quietly behind me. I pulled my light-blocking curtains shut so that I could ignore the outside world. Mental exhaustion started to set in. I collapsed on my bed and set an alarm on my phone for 4:15. It didn't take long before I dozed off.

__________

"Did we get to all of your classrooms, Clyde?" Token was staring down at a map of campus.

"Yeah, I'm all set. Craig?"

"Hm?" I looked up from my shoes. My body was present, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.

"Did we get to all of your classes?" Clyde raised his eyebrows at me. His hands were tucked inside his pants' pockets.

"Oh, yeah." I mumbled. I offered a curt nod and looked back down.

"Are you okay Craig?" Clyde stopped walking. We had spent the last hour navigating around campus searching for our classrooms. I suddenly felt a lot less prepared for my classes to start.

"I'm fine." I lied. I don't really ever talk about my problems. I usually try to keep my dilemmas to myself. I could be my own therapist. My problems weren't anyone's but my own; I never expected anyone to be able understand them or even remotely help. There was no point in telling anyone about my issues.

"Don't bullshit me, Tucker. Is this about last night?" Clyde pressed further.

"Yeah, dude. You're acting weird, even for you." Token folded his map and looked at me with concerned eyes.

"No, I told you, nothing happened last night. I just made out with Tom a little, and then I left, okay??" I could hear a hint of impatience creep into my voice. I turned to keep walking.

"Okay... What _is_ wrong then?" Token sped up and stopped in front of me, blocking my path.

I looked at the concern painted across my friends' faces. Something in this moment made me feel vulnerable. Maybe it was the newness of college, and the unfamiliar feeling of being away from home. Maybe it was seeing Tweek again. Whatever it was, I felt like maybe, just this once, it would be okay to let someone in. I decided it might even be helpful to talk to Token and Clyde about this. They'd probably find out eventually anyway.

"Okay... today I went down our street to those shops. You know the ones a few blocks down? There's a Starbucks down there, and you'll never guess who works there..." I uttered a humorless chuckle, but it sounded more like an awkward, choked exhale.

"Who?" Token looked genuinely confused.

"Tweek Tweak." I diverted my eyes from their gaze.

"Woah dude! Really?? That's awesome!" Clyde looked excited. He flashed a toothy grin.

"Yeah! We should invite him over sometime! It feels like it's been forever since we've seen him. How is he?" Token's lips curved upward.

"He... He doesn't want to talk to me." The words pained me to speak out loud. "I don't know why."

"What? He was like, your best friend... wasn't he?" Token's smile faded, and worry once again filled his eyes. Clyde's expression followed suit.

"He was. I don't understand it. I can't think of anything I could have done that would have pissed him off so much." I started playing with a pebble on the sidewalk with my shoes. I kept my focus there as much as possible. "I just feel..."

I grasped to find words to describe how I felt. My head was swimming with confusion, pain, and a twinge of irritation. Why was this the way things were playing out? This wasn't how this was supposed to go.

"...like shit." I finished my sentence weakly.

"Well fuck, dude. I'm sorry about that..." Token rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the pebble I was moving beneath my feet.

"We can figure it out, Craig. Things will work out." Clyde placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah. He'll come around, I'm sure!" Token chimed in. He placed a hand on my other shoulder. "We'll help if you need us."

The hands on my shoulders weighed me down with a sensation of guilt. I didn't deserve my friends. They shouldn't care about me; I'd never shown them the same compassion they were showing me. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, willing the feeling to go away.

"Let's head back to the apartment. We can make dinner and play video games for the rest of the night. How's that sound, Craig?" Clyde offered me a faint smile.

"Good." I responded meekly.

We walked back to the apartment together. That night, while the three of us sat around our TV, eating boxed mac and cheese, everything felt ok. For the first time in a long time, I looked at my friends and realized how grateful I was for their presence in my life. Everything was going to be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! No satisfaction just yet. 
> 
> I'm hoping to get the next chapter out right before Christmas, but I'm not really sure yet. Like I mentioned, it's going to be busy for me within the next few weeks! If you are also coming up on finals, Godspeed, my friend.


	6. Let Me Learn Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't make good on my promise to get this chapter out before Christmas, so instead it's coming out on Christmas... sooo...
> 
> Merry Creekmas, you filthy trash.
> 
> (Just kidding, I love you guys.)
> 
> Also I highly recommend listening to the chapter track this time! It's one of my favorite songs (sorry it's another Modern Baseball song).

Chapter track: Hiding -- Modern Baseball

I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring loudly beside my head. A heavy feeling weighed on my chest, reminding me how much less excited I had become about the start of classes. I hit the snooze button on the screen of my phone and allowed myself to close my eyes for a few more minutes.

I drifted in and out of a dream-like state, my mind playing back the events of the previous day.

_"How did you find me?"_

_Words failed me. My dry mouth gaped, without uttering a sound. A nervous lump rose in my throat as my eyes darted across his face, anticipating the next words to come._

_"You should just leave, Craig."_

_Suddenly the floor opened underneath me, and I felt gravity pull me down, Tweek slipping out of my sight, out of my reach. The bubbling feeling of a scream rose up through my chest, but when my mouth opened, no noise could escape my lips._

I jolted upright in my bed, clutching at my shirt in panic. My heart thumped loudly as I realized it was just a dream -- but not really. I took in a shaky breath and let it out with a sound of relief slipping out of my mouth.

I checked my phone -- two minutes remained before the snooze wore off and my alarm would assault my ears again. I figured it wasn't worth closing my eyes, so I threw my legs over the side of my bed and stumbled onto the floor, grabbing my hat off of my bed post. I meandered out into the kitchen -- Clyde and Token both had early morning classes, so the apartment was empty. I chose to forgo early classes in exchange for the chance to have a few extra hours of glorious, glorious sleep. I had never been an early-riser. 

As I began my usual morning ritual, I allowed my mind to play out my plan for the day. I had two classes on that Monday: intro astronomy and an advanced physics class. They were back to back, and thankfully they were both in the same building. I would go to class, and then head back toward my apartment, making an important stop on the way home. I'd had it all planned out; I wanted to fix this problem, and I was pretty confident I could make it happen. It was _Tweek_ after all. He just _had_ to come around soon, right? I knew how I could make it happen.

Before I left the apartment, I pulled a shoe box out from underneath my bed. I slid the lid off and reached for the disorganized pile of papers that lay inside. I had kept these for years, hidden in the back of my closet. I couldn't bring myself to leave them at home. It was the last thing I was willing to admit to anyone, but some nights when I was feeling particularly anxious or stressed, I would reach behind the pile of shoes in my closet and pull them out to read them. Tweek's letters were written on blank copy paper, folded into thirds. I had unfolded and refolded them so many times that the paper threatened to tear at the creases. Reading them would remind me that he was out there somewhere. Even if I didn't know where, he was probably busy being just as strong as he had always been. It helped me find my own strength to pull through particularly rough days.

I grabbed them and stuffed them into my backpack, envelopes included. I made my way down and out of the apartment and toward campus.

__________

I entered the classroom my physics course was being held in. I was feeling a lot better about things at this point. My astronomy class had gone well -- the syllabus informed me that our grades would be comprised of only 4 tests, which was a relief since I tended to be pretty good at test taking. Also I wouldn't have to spend a bunch of time writing essays or completing projects. I was a little more concerned about this physics course, but I was sure I could handle it.

I walked to a desk in the back row and took a seat, dropping my backpack on the floor next to me. Fiddling with the pen in my hand I waited for the rest of the students to file in. My eyes were trained on the door, waiting to get my first look at the professor.

The next person that walked through the door was a surprise. Confidently marching into the room was a blonde figure, textbook in hand. It only took a second before his eyes found mine. A grin stretched across his face and he waved, making his way toward me. 

"Craig! Hey!" He sat down in the empty desk to my left. Fucking wonderful.

"Hey, Tom." I tried not to sound too irritated. I wasn't trying to be mean to the guy, after all. After my awkward escape the other night, leaving him with an uncomfortable erection and no release, I kind of felt bad for him.

"I thought freshmen couldn't take this class? What are you doing here?" His entire body was turned in his chair so that he was facing me. I kept my head directed toward the front of the classroom.

"They can if they test out of the intro physics class, which I did."

"Ooooh, so you're a smarty-pants or something?" His tone was mocking, as if I was some sort of loser for doing well on my placement exams. I refused to feel embarrassed about it.

"I guess?" I frowned at him.

He merely made a noise of intrigue, raising his eyebrows and looking at me up and down as if I was a piece of meat. Ugh.

The professor walked in and began speaking. He passed around our syllabus and started talking logistics for the course. Throughout the entire class period, I could feel Tom's eyes flicking my direction. Each time it happened I grew more and more irritated. Finally I snapped. 

"Dude, what do you want? Stop looking at me like that." I whispered just loud enough that he could hear me, but the tone of my voice was cutting.

His gaze darted down to his desk and a flush grew across his cheeks. "Sorry." He mumbled. 

My stomach sank a bit when I noticed how embarrassed he looked. I rolled my eyes and pushed down the feeling, returning my attention to the professor, who was talking about how our tests would be formatted.

When class ended I tried to gather my belongings as quickly as possible; I was on a mission after all, and I didn't need Tom holding me up. Much to my dismay, I had barely made it out the door when I felt a very unwanted hand come crashing down on my shoulder.

"Craig, wait up!"

I stopped and turned to Tom, who looked mildly hurt that I had dashed out of class without acknowledging him. 

"Sorry, I'm in a little bit of a rush. There's someone I have to go meet, and I don't have a lot of time." I hadn't finished my sentence before I turned to walk away again. 

"Well, let me walk you there."

Before I could protest, he was grabbing me by my elbow and dragging me outside. He walked with me as I made my way toward Starbucks, making idle conversation along the way. 

It was frustrating, trying to be interested in what he had to say. All I wanted to do was mentally prepare myself for the confrontation I was about to have. I wanted to decide what to say to Tweek -- I had an idea, but I really wanted to make sure I planned out every exact word. Tweek could get worked up over stressful conversations, and the last thing I wanted to do was upset him. I suppose I could have just told Tom to get lost so that I could focus, but somehow he managed to make me feel bad for him.

When we reached the Starbucks, I stopped. Tom was so wrapped up in whatever garbage he was talking about that he took a few steps forward before realizing I wasn't beside him anymore. He turned back toward me, confused as to why I'd stopped.

"I'm going inside." I said, tilting my head toward the door. "Thanks for walking with me." 

He glanced at the building questioningly. "You're meeting someone at Starbucks?"

"Yes." I started to move to push the door open. "See you around." 

He grabbed my hand right as it made contact with the door. "Wait." He removed his hand from mine once he had my attention. Looking down at his feet, he shuffled in place, as if he had suddenly lost all the confidence he'd had up until that point. "I was thinking we should go do something together soon... like go see a movie or something." He gave me a hopeful smile. I started feeling bad again.

"Look, I'm not so sure, dude. Sorry, but it's the first day of classes, and I'm just trying to get settled into a routine right now." I hiked my backpack further up. "And I'm just not looking for a boyfriend right now." Lies.

His face dropped, but he didn't seem too discouraged. "Well, once you get settled in, we should really give it a try. Here..." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and began tapping on the screen. The phone was thrust into my hands. "Put your number in."

This guy wasn't picking up on my hints. I fumbled to come up with an excuse as to why I couldn't give him my number, but I came up with nothing. I decided to put a fake number in, but I was quickly gripped with the fear that he might try to call me while I stood right in front of him. _Fuck._ I deleted the number I had began to type, and opted instead to put in my real number. Worse comes to worst, I could just ignore his calls and texts if I needed to. I handed him his phone. 

"Tucker, huh?" He said, eyeing his screen.

"Yup." I said curtly, turning toward the Starbucks door. Shit, I hoped Tweek hadn't seen me -- we'd been standing outside the store for a few minutes now. "Bye." I said with finality.

"Bye, Craig!" He called after me as I entered the store, the scent of coffee gently wafting toward my nose. I didn't look back.

My eyes scanned the bar. Sure enough, behind the counter was my once-friend, frantically preparing drinks. I had taken a gamble, since I didn't have any idea what his schedule looked like. Thankfully the stars seemed to align (if you believe in that bullshit), and he just happened to be working then. At the register was an unfamiliar face. I moved toward a table where I'd be out of his line of sight and crashed down into a chair.

I hadn't had time to prepare myself enough, but I figured it was too late. He'd notice my presence soon enough and tell me to leave before I could say what I wanted to say. When I saw that he was beginning to make the final drink order of the rush they'd just had, I decided it was time. I reached into my backpack and pulled out the letters. Taking a deep breath, I stood up and walked toward the bar.

Tweek had just placed a drink on the pickup counter, and called out the order. When he lifted his head, he saw me approaching. A look of fear spread across his face and he quickly turned to walk away. 

"Wait! Tweek, please." He stopped moving but didn't turn around. "I want to show you something." I watched his shoulders heave as he took in a shaky breath. Releasing it, he turned to face me. The expression on his face was unreadable.

I held the letters out to him, envelopes included. He took them with a shaky, bandaged hand, and flipped through them, looking confused.

"I kept them all..." My hand flew to the back of my neck and began rubbing the soft skin there. "You see, uh, on the envelopes? There's no return address. Not a single one. I-I wanted to write back to you! But I had nowhere to send my letters. That one on the bottom is one I wrote for you, but wasn't ever able to send..." I trailed off while watching him inspect the papers in his hands.

His eyes finally flicked upward and caught mine. Green eyes held blue eyes for what felt like an eternity of silence, before I couldn't take it anymore. 

"I know you're probably mad because I never wrote back to you, right?" My voice cut through the awkward silence. "Well I'm hoping this helps, and we can start over again? I really, really wanted to write back to you... you have to know that, right? God, I even tried to contact your social worker to find you." A small frown appeared on his mouth at my last comment.

"Craig, I didn't put return addresses on my letters for a reason. I didn't _want_ you writing back." He dropped the papers onto the counter in front of me with a light _smack_ in the same moment my jaw snapped open. I stared at the pile of letters and envelopes as if they'd betrayed me. I couldn't bring myself to lift my head. 

"But... that doesn't make any sense. Why would you write to me, but not want me to write back?" I shook my head. I was so sure this had been the answer. This was supposed to be the moment he'd realized his silly mistake of forgetting to send me a return address. He was supposed to laugh at himself, and come running around from behind the counter to pull me into a long-awaited embrace. Why wasn't anything going the way it was supposed to go? "Why are you acting like this?" A twinge of anger crept into my voice.

I looked up in time to see his shaky hands folding a piece of lined paper and slipping it into the pocket of his green apron. That's when I noticed it: on his left wrist was a faded, black twine bracelet, complete with colored glass beads. The thing looked like it'd seen better days. The faintest tan line circled around his wrist beneath the bracelet, like a soft white halo. Confused emotions began bubbling in my chest. Hope, happiness, warmth spread through me with the thought that somewhere inside him, he must still care. Why else would he be wearing the bracelet that I hadn't even remembered I'd given him? But my positive emotions were sullied with rising anger at the situation, and a sinking feeling of disappointment that my plan had failed to produce the desired results.

He must have noticed my piercing eyes on his wrist and remembered what he was wearing, because his hand quickly shot behind his back, hidden from my scrutinizing gaze.

"My reasons are my own, and I don't owe you an explanation!" His tone was biting.

"What the fuck do you mean, 'you don't owe me an explanation'?? Of course you do, we were best friends! You can't just do this to me!!" My fist connected with the counter. I found the words tumbling out of my mouth before I had even thought about them. Fuck. Years of learning how to think before speaking betrayed me in those moments. I immediately wished I could take back my words, and exchange them for a more gentle, thoughtful response. 

He looked incredibly hurt that I'd raised my voice. I never yelled at Tweek. This was all such shit, I just didn't know how to react.

"Get the fuck out of my store, Craig." He turned and stormed into the back room. Once again, I found myself standing alone beside the Starbucks pickup counter, dumbfounded by the things Tweek had said to me.

When I finally broke free of my trance, I snatched the papers off of the counter and slinked over to the table where my belongings sat. I stuffed the letters back inside my backpack before pulling out a notebook I'd been using for class. My fingers found a pen inside the outer pocket of my red bag, and I quickly scratched down the only words I could come up with:

_Tweek,_

_I'm sorry for yelling at you. You're right. You don't owe me anything. But I want to understand. Please, let me fix this._

_Yours, Craig_

I handed it to the guy at the register, and asked him to give it to Tweek. He seemed confused, but obliged. Before he could enter the back room to deliver my note, I left the Starbucks and headed back to my apartment.

__________

It was 1:21 am and sleep couldn't have felt further away. As if my life was some cheesy movie, it had started raining by the time I'd made it back to my apartment after the visit to Starbucks. My curtains were pulled open, allowing the light from the street lamps to pour into my room, dancing as raindrops slid down the glass of my window. I was hyper-aware of the quiet, high-pitched noise produced by the air flowing in and out of my slightly-congested nostrils. I tried to pretend I was back home, and the gentle squeaking was that of my baby girl, Stripe, happily chirping away. But it just wasn't the same. I knew my guinea pig's noises far too well to be able to pretend my wheezy nostrils were Stripe. Instead, I was alone in some unfamiliar apartment, trying to sort out my messy life and confusing emotions.

I checked my phone. 1:22. _Ugh._ Time couldn't possibly move any slower. I rolled over and tried to close my eyes. My mind drifted to Tom, and I briefly wondered why the fuck he wanted anything to do with some fuck-up like me. I just wanted to be left alone. And now he had my phone number. Goddamnit. 

I rolled back over and checked my phone again. 1:23. Fuck it. I sat up in bed and slid out of my blankets and on to the floor. I walked over to my backpack, which leaned against my desk, open and beckoning me to pull out its contents. So I did. I sat there with Tweek's letters, but didn't dare to read them. Instead I fiddled with the papers, running my fingers up and down their length and across Tweek's messy handwriting.

As I rifled through the letters, I noticed one was missing; particularly the one I had written, but never sent. My mind flashed to earlier that day, before I had gotten distracted by my bracelet on his wrist, Tweek had slipped a piece of paper into his pocket. My letter. 

Why did he even want that? He didn't seem to want anything to do with me. I threw the papers across my room in frustration. I needed to get out. 

I pulled on my shoes and a rain coat before creeping out of the apartment and into the rain. There was a slight chill in the air, biting softly at my overheated skin. It felt nice. I began walking, without any real destination in mind. Knowing who I was as a person, I figured that before I went back home for the night, I'd probably end up at the location where my stresses had begun. So I decided not to prolong my walk, and head straight toward the Starbucks. As if something there would calm my restlessness.

Wetness began seeping through my shoes as I walked past the storm drain where I had thrown up the other day. It felt like it happened months ago. 

The Starbucks came into view. The lights were out inside, but I crossed the street anyway to peer into the building. The inside was still, in a peaceful, yet eerie way. My reflection in the glass caught my attention. Raindrops had soaked the black hair that stuck out from underneath my hood, plastering wet clumps against my forehead. The dark circles under my eyes that were present the other day hadn't faded. They matched Tweek's own. I looked pathetic. My stomach began churning and I decided I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself. I tore my eyes away from the glass and began walking around the store.

An alleyway stretched behind the Starbucks and a neighboring shop. A dumpster sat against the building; just beyond it, and an overhead light shined down across the back door of the Starbucks, casting a cone of light onto the pavement below. Just then, something moved from behind the dumpster, catching my attention.

Against my better judgement (which told me it was just a raccoon, and it would definitely attack me if I came near), I quietly creeped down the alley and toward the dumpster. Slowly, an oversized green canvas messenger bag came into view. Beside it was a foot inside of a plain black shoe, twitching gently. I recognized the foot as the object I had seen moving earlier. As I got closer, I realized it was just some homeless person, curled up in the corner created by the wall and the dumpster. 

Whoever he or she was, they looked like they were in a deep sleep, huddled under a few layers of blankets obscuring their face. I turned to leave, deciding it was probably best to leave before they woke up to find some random teen staring at them.

Bold green fabric peaking out from the messenger bag caught my attention. The same green of the Starbucks' employees' aprons. Damn, one of Tweek's coworkers must have fell into some rough times. I didn't want to stand around pitying this person, or worse yet, invading their privacy, but my curiosity grew. I walked around the huddled figure, trying to get a glimpse at their face. 

I saw light blonde hair sticking out from beneath the blankets. Goosebumps spread across my arms, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

It couldn't be.

But it was.

Under that heap of blankets, Tweek's body was gently shaking. I blinked, as though my eyes were deceiving me. But sure enough, there he was. My mind raced with what my next move should be. Would he get upset if he knew I'd found him like this?

After a moment of silent deliberation, I moved toward the mass of twitching blankets. I gently laid a hand on what I assumed was a shoulder underneath all of the layers. He didn't stir. I began shaking my hand, trying to rouse him. 

"Tweek." I whispered. I looked down at the ground around him. He was laying on another blanket on top of cold concrete. The area he was laying on was mostly dry, thanks to an overhang above the back door, but water on the ground had seeped toward him, dampening a few areas of his blankets. If it kept raining the way it was, he'd be completely soaked by the morning.

I began shaking him harder. "Tweek, wake up." I spoke in full volume now. His breath remained deep and slow, giving no indication that he was going to wake up anytime soon. I started pulling blankets off of him. When his body was exposed, I lifted him up into a sitting position against the wall of the Starbucks. His head flopped heavily to the side. _Damn _he was out cold. I'd never seen him sleep like this before. He was usually such a light sleeper, if he slept at all.__

__I remembered him being prescribed sleeping pills around 7th grade. Maybe he was still on them? Maybe they worked a little too well? I gripped his shoulders and shook him again. "Tweek, get up!" I raised my voice further. In response, I received a light snore. If it weren't for the current situation, it would have almost been comical._ _

__I stepped back and began thinking. My instinct was to carry him and his belongings back to my apartment. My mind was anything but clear though, and no decision I made recently felt like the right one. If I took him back with me, he'd probably freak out when he woke up. It would probably be a massive invasion of his personal space. Not only would he be upset that I'd found out he'd been sleeping on the streets, he'd be deeply shaken to find he was waking up in an unfamiliar bed._ _

__But if I didn't take him with me, he could end up sick, or worse. How long had he been doing this? It's a miracle he hadn't already gotten sick._ _

__The other option was to stay here longer to keep trying to wake him up. As I considered my options, a loud, choked snore escape from his agape mouth, as if he was letting me know he was probably not going to wake up._ _

__I gave it my best effort though, shaking him and speaking loudly into his ear. But he still wouldn't wake up, and I was starting to get really wet and really cold._ _

__Finally, I decided to give in, and carry the sleeping blonde back to my apartment. I grabbed his messenger bag, and tied a few of his blankets around it, so that I wouldn't accidentally drop them. Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I debated how to pick up his limp body. I wrapped my arms under his armpits and around his torso, heaving him over my shoulder. Fuck he was heavy. I silently thanked whatever deity that my apartment was only a few minutes away. I picked up the blanket Tweek had been laying on and chucked it over his body in an attempt to keep him dry and warm on the way back._ _

__His bony ribs dug into my shoulder as I struggled down the sidewalk. When I finally made it to my apartment, I sighed in relief, turning my key in the knob and stumbling inside. My relief was only temporary though, as I began to realize I'd have to carry him up stairs._ _

__I supposed I _could_ leave him down here in this small area shared by us and our downstairs neighbors. After all, it was an upgrade from sleeping outside. But my neighbors would definitely find him and kick him out. And also, Tweek deserved to sleep in a bed. I breathed heavily before beginning my trek up the stairs._ _

__Eventually I reached my room. I pulled the soaked blanket off of Tweek's still-twitching figure, revealing his now soaked clothes underneath. So much for trying to keep him dry. I placed him on my bed and looked at his wet body in front of me. I found myself faced with yet another decision._ _

__Should I take off his wet clothes? He would definitely lose his shit if he woke up naked in an unfamiliar bed. But he'd probably be cold and uncomfortable if I didn't._ _

__I faintly remembered learning once that someone who's cold shouldn't stay in their wet clothes. I justified it in my head. As weird as it was, I figured it was best. I really didn't want him to get sick. I pulled off his shoes and socks first._ _

__Jesus fucking Christ, this was weird. I managed to pull his shirt over his head, and shimmy his pants off of his slender hips. I felt so dirty. It felt so wrong. I caught sight of his gray boxer-briefs -- they were pretty much dry. What a relief. I noticed the bracelet, still tied around his wrist, and decided to take it off of him, deciding I could ask him about it in the morning. I buried the black twine in my pocket. After allowing myself a minute to catch my breath, I hung his shirt and pants over my desk chair in the hopes that they'd dry by the morning._ _

__I walked back over to his sleeping figure. His hair was still soaked. I grabbed a bath towel and placed it overtop of one of my pillows. Awkwardly, I managed to pull his body up so that he could rest his head on top of the towel. My hands found my duvet, and they quickly pulled it overtop of him, covering the indecent state I'd left him in. If he still hated me in the morning, hopefully we could manage to pretend I hadn't stripped him of his clothes._ _

__I wasn't tired before, but I sure as hell was tired after lugging a full-grown man home. All I wanted to do was sleep._ _

__Though my bed was a double, meant to comfortably fit two people, I realized how this situation would be made significantly weirder if Tweek woke up half-naked in bed next to me. I briefly considered sleeping on a futon out in the living room, but decided that I wanted to be here when he woke up. Though I'm sure he didn't want to see me, it would be better to wake up with a familiar face nearby, rather than wake up completely alone in a strange room._ _

__I changed into new clothes and towel-dried my hair. I grabbed a few throw blankets and a pillow and laid them on the floor. Though it wasn't the most comfortable set up, I didn't care. Exhaustion creeped up on me the moment my head hit the pillow._ _

__Finally able to close my eyes, I was quickly lulled asleep by Tweek's steady breathing._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to get he next chapter out like, pretty soon. It's one I am really excited to write!
> 
> Sorry if this chapter was not as good as it could have been... I was slightly drunk while writing the majority of it... I'll probably come back and edit it a little.


	7. Lessons to be Learned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s back, back, back? Back again.
> 
> Yo so sorry I’m a human pile of poop, and said that I was going to finish this chapter fast, but instead took over two months to finish it. Haha.
> 
> Anyway, I wish this chapter was better, but really I was just in a weird, depressed place for the past couple of months. But hey! I’m back, and I wanted to get this out there. I’ll do my best from now on to keep up with regular updates!
> 
> Hope you all have been doing well :)
> 
> Also the track for this chapter is indeed the song I titled this fic after. Basically a small portion of this song is what inspired this entire fic. The rest of the song doesn’t fit, but whatever, it’s one of my fave songs.
> 
> TW: mentions of abuse (very very brief mentions)

Chapter track: Twin Size Mattress — The Front Bottoms

I woke up to the sound of sheets violently moving above my head. The small noises of a panicked teen made me open my eyes. Daylight poured through the cracks of blinds -- I wondered how long I had slept.

"Jesus Christ! Where am I!? Where are my clothes?!"

"Tweek, take it easy." His head whipped downward to look at me. Upon seeing my face he looked relieved. However, fear quickly marred his face again. "You're at my apartment. I found you last night in the rain, and you looked... well... not okay. So I brought you here so you could sleep somewhere dry and warm."

He continued to stare at my face, looking utterly confused. Tension filled the air.

"I figured this is what was best... I know you're not exactly happy with me, but I just couldn't leave you out there, and you weren't waking up, so..."

"So you fucking kidnapped me, and stole my clothes?!" Panic washed over his face and his eyes began darting around the room. "Where's my stuff? Did you grab my bag?" He began patting down the bed in search of his belongings. 

"Yeah. It's right over there." I pointed a lazy finger to the messenger bag which sat on the ground near my desk. Tweek quickly scrambled out of my bed and over toward his clothes. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up.

"Jesus Christ man! What's your fucking problem?! This isn't okay!" He yanked his pants from my desk chair and began pulling them over his legs.

"Dude, those aren't even dry yet, let me give you some of my clothes." I lifted my tired body off of the ground, and my back clenched in protest. Sleeping on the floor hadn't been good for me.

"I don't need your clothes, and I don't need your pity! God, this is fucked up, man! I've been _fine _sleeping out there every other night! Just who do you think you are? What gives you the right?!"__

__"Wait, I don't pity you. I was just trying to help!" This was not going according to plan._ _

__"Well maybe I don't want your help! Did you ever think of that, Craig??" His nose scrunched up in disgust as he buttoned his pants._ _

__"Yes, actually. I did think of that. And I figured saving you from getting sick or worse was worth you being a little mad at me." The slightest twinge of irritation filled my voice._ _

__"Saving me?" He scoffed. "What, so you think you're some goddamn hero?" He was now pulling his damp shirt over his head._ _

__"No, I don't." I felt a little hurt at his remark. "I'm sorry, okay?"_ _

__He shook his head, as if not accepting my apology. "I don't need your help." His hand found his wrist and he paused. "Where's my bracelet?" His eyes drilled holes into my skin._ _

__I dug around in my pockets for the piece of jewelry before realizing it was still in my pants pocket from last night. I scrambled to my hamper and pulled the bracelet out._ _

__"You mean this?" I dangled it in front of his face. Taunting him with it didn't seem like the right thing to do, but neither was anything else I was doing, so I figured fuck it, I might as well go with it. "Why do you even care about this thing?" I looked at it with disgust. "You don't even care about the person that gave it to you!"_ _

__"I do care, stupid!!" He practically screamed._ _

__My brain stopped working._ _

__"Of course I fucking care." He continued, quieter this time. "But caring too much only makes life more difficult, okay?"_ _

__There was a long silence that hung heavily between us._ _

__"I... I don't understand, Tweek. I know I've made some bad decisions recently, and I'm still trying to figure things out. Maybe bringing you back to my apartment wasn't the right decision, and maybe taking off your wet clothes was also a really bad decision, and I'm sorry for that, but Tweek, I'm _trying _here. Please. I don't know what to do anymore, but I want my best friend back." I paused; the expression on his face was unreadable. "You're right. You don't need my help." I inhaled sharply. "But I need your help. Help me understand what I need to do to make things right with you... _Please. _"_____ _

______I extended the bracelet toward him with a sweaty, shaky hand. Tweek's green eyes stared at the object, unsure what to do. After a few seconds, he exhaled loudly and took it out of my hands._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Of course I still care about you, Craig. You were my best friend! But everything in my life gets fucked up. It's my fault I got taken away from you in the first place. I was the one who decided to rat out my old foster parents for abusing me. It's my fault I got taken away from South Park -- away from you. It's my fault I spent the following years being miserable and alone. And I'm scared..." His eyes fell to the floor. "I'm scared that if I become your friend again, I'm going to fuck things up all over again, and I'm going to hate myself for it. Then I'm going to spend the next 4 years of my life feeling like shit for losing the only person in my life who ever actually liked me for me, instead of just feeling bad for the weird kid. Maybe it seems irrational, but I'm scared. And I can't keep putting myself through all of this shit! My life is difficult enough as it is. I didn't want you writing back to me because I knew it would be too painful! I figured I'd never see you again. Breaking it off was the best way for me to deal with my emotions. I knew you'd want to hear from me though, and I wanted to let you know I was okay, so I decided to at least send you a few letters." His eyes were tracing patterns on the floor. "I didn't want things to turn out the way they did. I wanted you with me more than anything! But it was easier for me to try to forget you! To try to move on with my life. The whole thing was a really awful transition and my social worker wouldn't let me go back to South Park." His eyes flicked upward and caught mine. "But it was for the better. I'm sure your life was better off that way. I'm fucked up. I'm awful to be around and you deserve friends that won't constantly make you sad. You didn't need me writing to you about how horrible my life was. You didnt need that, and you still don't need me dragging you down! Look at where you're at now! You're in college. You're making a life for yourself. But I'm... I’m worthless. I can't even get a promotion at work. I can't afford rent, I got kicked out of my foster home when I turned 18, and then kicked out of my ‘friend’s’ house, and so I'm sleeping on the streets! You don't need a loser like me hanging around to suck the happiness out of your life." His head snapped downward and he let his eyes wander across my floor again. "But I miss you." His voice cracked. "A lot."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Tweek's hands started trembling violently, the bracelet shaking in his grip. I was still at a loss for words. He thinks he’d be dragging me down? Where did all of this negativity come from?_ _ _ _ _ _

______I did the only thing I could think to do. Extending my arms outward I invited him in for a hug. He looked up shyly, and upon seeing my invite, he quickly wrapped his arms around my torso. I held him there for a minute, listening to the quiet, uneven sounds of his breathing, indicating to me he was crying. The feeling of our embrace brought back memories of the night Tweek left South Park. His scent was familiar, and carried with it all of the emotions I felt that night. I swallowed the lump that had begun forming in my throat._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I missed you, too.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______When Tweek finally pulled away, his face was just as damp as his clothes, but he quickly wiped away any wetness on his cheeks and regained his composure._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m not letting you convince yourself I’d be better off without you. I miss my best friend. I don’t want you to feel like you need to avoid me.” I reached out and took the bracelet from his hand and began to tie it around his wrist. “I just want you back in my life. Can we make that happen?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______There are so many more things I wish I could have said in that moment. That he was anything but worthless, that my life just hadn’t been quite the same without him, that I cared about him a lot more than he realized. But in sensitive situations such as these, words just never seem to flow very eloquently._ _ _ _ _ _

______When he looked up, he flashed a halfhearted smile at me. “Okay.”_ _ _ _ _ _

_________________ _ _ _ _ _

______I pushed the door inward, causing the bell above my head to chime loudly. Before I had so much as a chance to glance around, I was accosted by a middle-aged man wearing an ill-fitted polo shirt and more hair on his upper lip than on top of his head._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hello, sir. Can I help you with anything today?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______I immediately put my hand up to stop him, and answered with a curt “no.” God, salesmen can be so pushy and annoying. I’ve learned it’s best to shut them down early in the process, or else they’ll try to convince you to spend double what you intended to spend. But, instead of him shutting up like I’d hoped, he starting telling me about their current sale. I began walking away while he was still talking, saying “okay, thanks,” before he’d even finished talking._ _ _ _ _ _

______I strolled around the store, occasionally stopping to pick up the price tags so I could get a feel for the money I was about to drop. I flipped a tag over in my hand to reveal the price: $699.99. Ugh, why did these damn things cost so much money?_ _ _ _ _ _

______I kept pushing my way through the store until I finally found one that looked like it would suit my needs: the top was appropriately fluffy, and it wasn’t too firm or too soft. The price wasn’t completely out of my budget either. I flagged the salesman down._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’ll take this one.” I said, not making eye contact with the man._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What a great choice! This mattress is from our Deep Sleep collection, and it really is the best quality available at the best price. It’s originally $599.99, but it’s currently 15% off, which brings the price to around 510 dollars. Now, will you be needing a bed frame, a headboard, a box spring, or any pillows?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Um...” I hadn’t really thought about any of that. I guess I did need to get another pillow. “I’ll take a pillow, I guess.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Great, let me show you the ones we have, they’re right over here.” He guided me to the wire crates filled with pillows, each labeled with words like “soft,” “side-sleeper,” “firm,” “down,” and similar words. As the salesman babbled on about pillow types and prices, I thought back to the many nights Tweek had slept over at my house when we were young. Vivid images of the blonde boy curled up into a fetal position on his side stirred in my memories._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’ll take one of these side-sleeper ones.” I cut off the salesman’s rambling, and plucked a fluffy pillow from the wire crate._ _ _ _ _ _

______I walked over to the cash register with pillow in hand. The salesman scrambled behind the counter to check me out._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay, sir. And we do provide free, same-day delivery on all of our mattress purchases, so if you’d like to write down your address for me, we can have it delivered to you by 3 pm today.” I briefly thought about the possibility of my landlord seeing a mattress being delivered to our apartment. He’d definitely get suspicious and wonder if we we had more people living there than what we agreed to on our lease. Thankfully I remembered he had just left with his family for an end-of-summer vacation._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay.” I scribbled my new address down on the paperwork._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Alright then, your total today comes to $575.49.” The salesman smiled at me, causing his thick mustache to stretch across his face._ _ _ _ _ _

______I flipped through my wallet and looked at the cash I had gotten for graduation. I had other plans in mind for this money. I was going to buy a new camera with it, but in the end, this seemed like it was a little more important than some stupid hobby. I handed the man the majority of the cash I had on me._ _ _ _ _ _

______After making my purchase, I attended my classes for the day, and walked back home. When the twin size mattress was delivered to the apartment, Tweek nearly threw a fit. I had managed to convince him to live with us, but only after a lot of persuasion. He had planned to sleep on one of the futons, but they were shitty, so I had other plans in mind. Of course I hadn’t told him what I was buying, or else he would have stopped me. But now that the mattress was in the apartment, he’d have to get over it. He needed something comfortable to sleep on. I’m sure his back could use a break after sleeping on the streets for (what I found out to be) almost 2 months._ _ _ _ _ _

______Eventually he gave in, allowing me to set up his mattress in my room by the foot of my bed so that he could have at least some privacy away from Token and Clyde. I placed his now-dry blankets and new pillow on the mattress, along with his bag of belongings. It certainly wasn’t luxurious by any means, but at least it was better than his previous situation._ _ _ _ _ _

______Though Tweek initially was unhappy with my decision to buy him a mattress, when he started to get tired at the end of the day, he was thanking me repeatedly. I watched him take some medications and eventually he was snoring loudly from atop the new mattress._ _ _ _ _ _

______I had a much more difficult time falling asleep that night. Tweek told me that when he turned 18, he got kicked out of his foster home. Thankfully, a friend that he had met in school offered to let him sleep on the couch in his basement. But then they graduated, and his friend started getting irritated with his presence, and eventually kicked him out. Turns out, the friend thought that Tweek would move out after graduation, because the friend wanted to move out of his parent’s house to go to school. Tweek and that guy no longer speak to each other, and since then, Tweek has been carrying all of his belongings with him and sleeping on the streets._ _ _ _ _ _

______His job at Starbucks just hasn’t been paying enough to afford rent, but he’s been hoping to get promoted to a shift supervisor and get a pay raise, so he claimed that sleeping outside of Starbucks was just a temporary solution. Thankfully, he was able to receive some benefits from Starbucks so he could still afford his medications. Additionally, Starbucks throws out a couple of baked goods each night, so during his closing shifts he was able to procure some food, allowing him to save up some money._ _ _ _ _ _

______My mind wouldn’t stop racing about what a shitty situation he had been in. I wish I had known about all of this sooner, but I understand the need to protect your ego. Letting people help me is difficult, so I assumed Tweek didn’t want to ask for any help either._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Just until I get back on my feet again. Just until I get this pay raise. Then I’ll move out and stop mooching off of you,” was what Tweek had told me when he begrudgingly accepted my offer to live in our apartment. I let him know who his flatmates would be, and he seemed happy at the thought of reuniting with a few of his friends._ _ _ _ _ _

______Clyde and Token were really excited to see Tweek again after such a long time. They were even more excited by the prospect of him living with us. I privately told them that I didn’t want him paying any rent because he was in a pretty tough situation. Thankfully, they were really understanding, and promised to keep quiet about the situation in front of our landlord._ _ _ _ _ _

______There was a lot left unsaid between Tweek and I, and I could feel a slight tension between us still. I had a lot left to learn about Tweek and his life over the past couple of years. But those were things that could be fixed with time and patience. In the meantime, I was just so happy that our friendship was finally back on track._ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I work in retail and I hate being a sales person. I feel like the most annoying creature on the planet.


End file.
